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125273 


759.5 


759.5  L58n   54-5820^ 
Leonardo  u&  Vinci 
Note -Books 


i  Turin 


LEONARDO  DA  VINCI 
(DHAWN  BV  HIMSRI.K) 


LEONARDO  DA  VINCI'S 
NOTE-BOOKS 

Arranged  and  rendered  into  English 
with  Introductions 

BY 
EDWARD    MCCURDY,    M.A. 


NEW  YORK: 
KMPIRK  STATE  BOOK  COMPANY 

1923 


Copyright 

h 

Empirt  State  Book  Company 


AVANT    PROPOS 

There  are  many  books  of  which  it  may  be  said 
that  the  world  will  survive  their  loss,  and  there  are 
others  so  replete  with  inspiration  that  they  should 
be  in  the  hands  of  every  student  of  human  progress; 
for,  when  it  is  granted  to  us  to  become  acquainted, 
even  to  a  small  extent,  with  the  lives  and  efforts  of 
those  to  whom  the  world  is  indebted,  when  we  have 
placed  before  us  the  record  of  courageous  struggle, 
of  unwavering  fortitude,  we  are  often  led  to  imitate 
and  strive  in  accordance  with  the  example  set  before 
us,  and  so  bring  to  a  successful  termination  what 
before  promised  to  be  defeat. 

There  is  another  advantage  as  well  that  comes  t 
from  the  study  of  these  intimate  records  of  a  man's 
life:  the  broadening  of  the  mental  horizon  as  we 
strive  to  grasp  the  underlying  motives  that  have  pro- 
duced such  application,  such  devotion,  to  aims  and 
ideals  that,  for  the  majority  of  us,  have  little  or  no 
drawing  power.  The  very  effort  we  make  to  under- 
stand the  force  that  has  commanded  such  self- 
sacrificing  consecration  to  an  end  that  has  no  attrac- 
tion for  us,  brings  us  within  the  circle,  and  conse- 
quently, the  influence  of  a  new  life,  new  vistas  arc 
open  before  us,  and  as  we  assimilate  and  grow  we 


achieve  one  of  the  greatest  things  in  life;  we  grow 
into  furuier  understanding  of  the  infinite  world  of 
the  human  heart,  we  see  things  from  a  different  angle; 
and  the  sympathies^  once  limited  to  a  narrow  sphere, 
have  broadened  out  and  embraced  yet  another  truth. 
So  in  placing  once  more  before  the  reading  Public 
the  Note  Books  of  Leonardo  da  Vinci,  we  feel  that 
we  are  performing  a  service  for  which  that  Public 
will  feel  grateful.  The  careful  study  of  the  work  of 
one  who  stands  out  as  one  of  the  world's  greatest 
intellects,  whose  prophetic  vision  was  so  keen  that 
it  has  led  to  his  being  qualified  as  the  forerunner  of 
many  aspects  of  modern  scientific' research,  can  only 
be  of  the  greatest  value  to  all  those  who  are  inter- 
ested in  tracing  the  advance  of  Human  Achievement 
and  in  particular,  of  studying  those  rare  cases  where 
the  mind  has  leaped  across  the  boundaries  of  the  age 
in  which  it  lived  and  worked* 

EMPIRE  STATE  BOOK  Co. 
January,  1923. 


PREFACE 

THE  manuscripts  of  Leonardo  da  Vinci  afford  the  chief 
existing  proof  of  that  extraordinary  versatility  with 
which  he  has  been  credited  from  the  time  of  his  earliest 
biographers  downwards.  They  comprise  the  records  and 
results  of  his  studies  in  the  theory  of  art  and  in  various 
branches  of  mathematical  and  natural  science,  together 
with  fragments  of  literary  composition  of  a  philosophical 
or  imaginative  character,  and  in  addition  much  personal 
and  biographical  matter.  The  manuscripts  in  their  pre- 
sent form  consist  of  about  twenty  note-books  and  bound 
volumes  or  collections  of  loose  sheets  of  various  sixes, 
containing  altogether  more  than  four  thousand  pages. 
While  on  many  of  these  there  are  only  drawings  or 
scientific  diagrams  with  at  most  a  few  words  of  comment 
or  explanation,  others  are  covered  with  minute  writing, 
which  with  the  rarest  exceptions  is  of  the  character  known 
as  c  left-handed  *  from  the  fact  of  its  direction  across  the 
page  being  from  right  to  left,  and  which  is  therefore 
most  easily  read  by  the  use  of  a  mirror.  The  contents 
of  these  manuscripts,  with  the  exception  of  such  parts 
as  are  contained  in  the  compilation  known  as  Leonardo's 
Treatise  on  fainting^  have  up  to  the  present  time 
only  been  available  to  English  readers  in  the  edition 


ri  PREFACE 

selected  and  edited  by  Dr.  Richter.     The  period  of 
more  than  twenty  years  which  has  now  elapsed  since 
the  appearance  of  that  important  work  has  witnessed 
the  publication   in  extenso  of  all  the   manuscripts  of 
Leonardo  at  Paris  and  Milan  with  facsimile  reproductions 
and  transcripts,  whilst  a  part  of  those  at  Windsor  which 
treat  of  anatomy  and  the  small  volume  '  on  the  flight  of 
birds '  have  also  appeared  in  a  similar  form  ;  of  the 
remainder  of  the  Windsor  manuscripts  photographic 
facsimiles  have  been  published.   The  quantity  of  material 
thus  placed  within  reach  of  the  student  is  the  justification 
for  a  work  of  the  scope  of  the  present  one*    The  above- 
mentioned  editions  have  served  as  my  text  for  the 
passages  which  I  have  taken  from  the  Codice  Atlantico, 
the  Codice  Trivulziano,  the  manuscripts  at  Paris  and 
Windsor,  and  the  volume  *  on  the  flight  of  birds/    In 
the  case  of  the  manuscript  in  the  British  Museum  and 
those  at  South  Kensington  I  have  worked  from  the 
originals.     In  the  passages  from  these  and  from  the 
Windsor  facsimiles  I  have  added  a  footnote  where  I 
have  ventured  to  adopt  a  reading  somewhat  different 
from  that  found  in  the  text  as  printed  by  Dr.  Richter* 
For  seven  passages  taken  from  the  manuscript  in  the 
possession  of  the  Earl  of  Leicester,  I  have  used  the  text 
given  in  Dr.  Richter's  work,  and  also  for  some  six  lines 
that  occur  in  the  Windsor  manuscripts  which  I  have  not 
been  able  to  locate  in  the  facsimiles ;  whilst  for  two 
from  sheets  in  the  Christ  Church  Library  at 


PREFACE  Tii 

Oxford  I  am  indebted  to  the  texts  in  Mr.  Sidney 
Colvin's  Oxford  Drawings. 

My  intention  has  been  to  present  Leonardo  as  a 
writer,  and  to  include  in  this  work  all  passages  from  the 
note-books  of  philosophical,  artistic,  or  literary  interest. 
From  the  mass  of  the  scientific  writings  I  have  drawn 
very  sparingly,  selecting  only  a  few  passages  which  either 
possess  a  more  general  interest  or  which  may  serve  to 
illustrate  his  method  of  exposition.  I  have  not  included 
any  of  those  passages  which  are  simply  the  memoranda 
of  scientific  or  mathematical  processes,  or  those  of  which 
the  importance  is  entirely  biographical.  These  latter 
chiefly  consist  of  notes  of  Leonardo's  movements  and 
household  expenses,  details  as  to  his  various  commissions, 
and  fragments  of  letters  relating  to  the  same.  I  have 
also  thought  fit  to  exclude  the  passages  purporting  to  be 
letters  addressed  to  the  Devatdar  of  Syria,  as  their 
actual  character  is  a  matter  of  some  uncertainty,  and 
their  literary  value  slight,  as  compared  with  the  im- 
portance of  the  biographical  issue  which  they  raise,  and 
any  adequate  discussion  of  that  issue  would  travel 
far  beyond  the  purpose  of  the  present  work.  I  have 
not  included  any  of  the  allegories  about  animals  which 
are  found  in  MS*  H  of  the  Paris  manuscripts,  because 
they  are  merely  extracts  made  by  Leonardo  from  early 
bestiaries  with  at  most  verbal  alterations;  so  also  I  have 
omitted  the  notes  on  armour  and  on  methods  of  warfare 
in  MS.  B,  as  being  derived  in  like  manner  from  the 


viii  PREFACE 

De  re  militari  of  Roberto  Valturio.  These  facts  may 
serve  to  suggest  some  of  the  difficulties  of  selection. 
The  manuscripts  were  Leonardo's  note-books,  and  as 
such  they  contain  much  unoriginal  matter — some  of  it 
no  doubt  still  unidentified — taken  from  various  books 
which  he  read. 

In  the  work  of  translation,  trying  at  times  to  avoid 
the  Charybdis  of  a  too  literal  interpretation,  I  may  have 
grounded  my  barque  on  the  hidden  reefs  of  Scylla  which 
lie  in  the  outer  seas  ;  but  for  the  most  part  I  have  kept 
to  the  shallows. 

The  illustrations  have  been  prepared  from  negatives 
specially  taken  for  the  purpose  by  Mr-  Emery  Walker. 
They  have  been  chosen  primarily  with  the  intention  of 
showing  the  degree  of  exactitude  which  characterised 
Leonardo's  study  of  natural  phenomena.  I  am  indebted 
to  Dr.  W.  S.  Handley  for  the  description  of  such  of 
them  as  are  of  an  anatomical  character  ;  and  for  repeated 
help  in  the  deciphering  of  various  difficult  passages  of 
the  text  I  have  to  thank  Mr-  J.  A,  Herbert,  of  the 
Manuscripts  Department  of  the  British  Museum, 


CONTENTS 

PAGE 

PREFACE,     ........  v 

LIST  OF  PLATES,    .......  xi 

INTRODUCTION,       .......  x 

A  RECORD  OF  THE  MANUSCRIPTS,         ....  25 

PROEM,        ........  45 

BOOK     I.  LIFE,      .......  47 

BOOK    II.  NATURE,           .           .          ^  ^    ^  ^          .  85 

BOOK  III.  ART— 

1.  PAINTING,  POETRY,  AND  SCULPTURE,  .          .  156 

2.  THE  PRECEPTS  OF  THE  PAINTER,         .           .  163 

3.  PERSPECTIVE,  AND  LIGHT  AND  SHADE,  .          .  210 

4.  LANDSCAPE,         .....  236 

BOOK  IV.  FANTASY- 
FABLES,    ......  252 

PROPHECIES,        .....  267 


LIST  OF  PLATES 

(?2*  originals  <unth  the  exception  of  t fa  frontispiece  art  all  to  fa 
found  in  the  Royal  Library  at  Windsor] 

LEONARDO  DA  VINCI,  BY  HIMSELF,  Royal  Library^ 

Turin, Frontiipifc* 

* 

1.  STUDY  OF  A  SKULL  IN  SECTION,  TO  SHOW 

THE   BONY  CAVITIES  OF  THE  FACE,     .  .        Face  p.  50 

This  plate  represents  a  skull  sawn  through  in 
the  median  plane.  The  extreme  front  portion 
of  the  right  half  of  the  skull  has  been  removed 
Jby  a  saw-cut  at  right  angles  to  the  median 
plane,  so  as  to  display  the  bony  cavities  or  air 
spaces  (frontal  sinus,  and  maxillary  antrum) 
which  are  present  in  the  facial  bones.  The 
section  also  displays  the  nasal  duct  through 
which  the  tears  pass  down  to  the  natal  cavity. 
On  the  left  are  seen  typical  teeth  from  the 
upper  jaw:  incisor,  canine,  bicuspid,  and 
molar,  with  a  full  and  accurate  description 
appended.  A  transcript  of  the  text  is  to  be 
found  in  /  Manoscritti  #  L.  aa  P.  DM 
Anatomia,  Fog/t  £,  pp.  249-50. 

2.  STUDIES  OF  THE  DELTOID  MUSCLE  OF  THE 

SHOULDER  IN  VARIOUS  ASPECTS,         .       „     Fact  p.  75 

This  plate  is  concerned  almost  entirely  with 
the  deltoid  muscle  of  the  shoulder,  which  is 
represented  from  various  aspects  and  in  various 
positions  of  the  arm.  The  little  drawing  in 


xii  LIST  OF  PLATES 

the  centre  below  the  middle  of  the  page  is  not 
related,  to  the  one  above  it,  and  represents  a 
dissection  of  the  omo-hyoid  muscle  arising,  as 
Leonardo  believed,  from  the  clavicle.  The  text 
contains  the  passages  on  the  nature  and  number 
of  the  veins,  which  are  to  be  found  on  pp.  79 
and  80,  also  an  account  of  the  various  move- 
ments of  the  neck,  and  explanations  of  the 
letters  which  occur  on  the  smaller  of  the  draw- 
ings. For  transcript,  see  /  Manoscritti  di  L.  da 
V.  Dell1  Anatomic  Fogti  A^  pp.  67-69, 

3.  STUDIES  IN  THE  ANATOMY  OF  THE   NECK 

AND  OF  THE   BONES   OF  THE   FOOT,     .  .        Face  p.  78 

This  plate  illustrates  the  anatomy  of  (a)  the 
bones  of  the  left  foot,  seen  from  above  and  from 
below;  (3)  the  muscular  and  other  structures 
of  the  neck,  seen  from  various  aspects.  In  one 
of  the  passages  of  the  text  Leonardo  gives  the 
number  of  the  bones  of  the  foot  as  twenty- 
seven.  For  transcript,  see  /  Manoseritti  di  L. 
da  V.  Dell*  Anatomia,  Fogli  A^  pp.  75-6. 

4.  STUDIES  OF  A  SKULL  IN  MEDIAN  SECTION,       Face  p.  84 

In  the  upper  drawing  half  the  vault  of  the 
skull  has  been  removed  in  order  to  show,  the 
cranial  cavity, 

In  the  lower  drawing  the  skull  and  the  upper 
part  of  the  spinal  column  are  seen  in  a  section 
through  the  mid-plane  of  the  body.  The  spinal 
column  appears  to  be  unnaturally  straight.  The 
lines  on  the  drawing  are  to  show  Inter  alia  that  * 

the  point  about  which  the  skull  rotates  is  one 
third  the  vertical  distance  from  the  level  of  the 
chin  to  the  level  of  the  crown  of  the  head. 
For  transcript,  see  /  Manosmtti  di  L*  da  V. 
Dell'  Anatomia,  Fogli  3,  p.  243. 

5.  LANDSCAPE  WITH  CLOUD  EFFECT,      .        -    Fact  p.  125 


6.  PAGE  OF  MS.  *  FOR  THE  SHRINE  OF  VENUS  ' 

(Pel  slto  di  Vtnert\  TOGETHER  WITH  ARCHI- 
TECTURAL STUDIES  AND  SKETCH  OF 
NEPTUNE  WITH  HIS  HORSES,  .  .  .  Fact  p.  131 

The  heads  and  legs  of  horses  seen  at  the  base 
of  the  standing  figure  show  its  connection 
with  the  composition  of  Neptune  in  his  chariot 
drawn  by  sea-horses,  which,  according  to  Vasari, 
Leonardo  drew  for  Antonio  Segni.  The  head 
of  the  horse  on  the  right  recalls  the  larger 
spirited  study  for  the  same  composition  at 
Windsor  (Grosvenor  Gallery  Portfolio  No.  48) 
From  a  note  on  the  last-named  drawing  '  abassi 
i  cbavalli*  (make  the  horses  lower),  it  may  be 
inferred  that  the  plate  represents  the  later  of 
the  two  versions.  Leonardo  was  apparently 
dissatisfied  with  an  arrangement  in  which  the 
position  of  the  figure  suggests  a  charioteer  quite 
as  much  as  it  does  a  deity,  and  altered  it  to 
represent  the  god  in  an  erect  position.  The 
figure  has  a  considerable  similarity  to  that  of 
the  David  of  Michelangelo,  but  is  not  impro- 
bably of  earlier  date. 

7,  GENISTA  TINCTORIA  (Dytrf  Grecnwecd)  AND 

ACORNS   AND  LEAVES  OF  THE  STALKED 

OAK  (Qucrcus  Robur  Pedunculata\      .         .    Fact  p.  163 

8,  STUDY  OF  DRAPER v  OF  KNEELING  FIGURE,  Fact  p.  186 

9.  BRAMBLE  (Rubus  Fruticosus),        *       *       .  Fact  p.  212 
10.  GROVE  OF  SILVER  BIRCHES,        .       .       .  Fact  p.  243 
ix.  STUDY  OF  TREE, Aw £.248 


12.  COLUMBINE  (Aquihgla  Vulgarn\  .        .         .     Face  p.  262 


13.  RANUNCULUS    REPENS    (Creeping 

ORNITHOGALtm     UMBELLIFERUM     (Star    of 

Bethlehem),  ANEMONE  NEMOROSA  (Wood 
Anemone\  EUPHORBIA  ESULA  (Leafy-Branched 
Spurge),  .......  Face  p.  274 


LEONARDO  DA  VINCI'S  NOTE-BOOKS 

INTRODUCTION 

THE  unknown  author  of  Aetna  at  the  outset  of  his  song 
disclaims  all  sympathy  with  the  fictions  of  poets  who 
represent  the  mountain  as  the  forge  of  Vulcan,  the  kilns 
of  the  Cyclops,  or  the  mound  beneath 'which  lies  the 
giant  Enceladus  breathing  smoke  and  flame.  Fables  all  t 
And  the  bards  who  utter  them  not  content  with  earth  as 
their  province  think  to  tell  of  the  wars  of  the  Gods,  and 
the  shapes  which  Jove  assumes  ! 

His  work  shall  treat  of  Aetna  itself,  not  the  legends 
about  it.  His  purpose  is  to  trace  the  mighty  workings 
of  nature  as  revealed  in  the  mountain's  hidden  fires. 

This  he  proceeded  to  do  with  scientific  thoroughness ; 
yet  it  would  seem  that  the  reservation  pressed  somewhat 
hardly  upon  the  poetic  instinct ;  so  soon  as  ever  his 
purpose  was  accomplished  the  muse  led  him  back  in 
apparent  contentment  to  the  scorned  fables. 

An  analogy — at  best  a  partial  thing— may  here  serve 
to  break  the  shore-ice  of  the  sea  of  conjecture.  The 
early  biographers  of  Leonardo  da  Vinci  cultivated  the 
picturesque  with  an  almost  metrical  licence.  Their 
narratives,  which  together  constitute  what  Pater  has 
termed  the  legende,  are  as  inadequate  to  reveal  his  work 
and  personality,  as  the  fables  of  Vulcan's  forge  and 


a  INTRODUCTION 

the  like  are  unsatisfying  as  an  origin  for  Aetna's  fire. 
Moreover,  in  the  different  aspects  which  Aetna  has 
assumed  to  the  imagination,  seeming  at  first  a  caprice  of 
the  Gods  and  a  thing  of  rhapsody,  and  subsequently — as 
the  tenor  of  thought  changed — a  field  for  the  scientific 
study  of  the  forces  of  nature,  there  is  presented  a  contrast 
no  less  sharply  defined,  and  in  its  main  features  somewhat 
closely  corresponding  to  that  presented  by  the  personality 
of  Leonardo  as  shown  in  the  earliest  biographies  and  in 
the  light  of  modern  research.  For  the  capricious 
volatile  prodigy  of  youthful  genius  which  the  legends  has 
bequeathed,  the  latter  has  substituted  a  figure  less 
romantic,  less  alluringly  inexplicable,  but  of  even  more 
varied  and  astonishing  gifts.  His  greatness  as  an  artist 
has  suffered  no  change,  but  modern  research  has  revealed 
the  ordered  continuity  of  effort  which  preceded  achieve- 
ment. It  has  made  manifest  how  he  studied  the 
structure  of  the  human  frame,  of  the  horse,  of  rocks, 
and  trees,  in  order  the  better  to  paint  and  make  statues, 
in  that  his  work  would  then  be  upon  the  things  he  knew, 
and  no  sinew  or  leaf  would  be  conventional,  but  taken 
directly  from  the  treasury  of  nature;  since  the  artist 
should  be  *  the  son,  not  the  grandson  of  nature/ 

This  habit  of  scientific  investigation  in  inception  sub- 
sidiary to  the  practice  of  his  art  so  grew  to  dominate  it 
as  to  gradually  alienate  him  from  its  practice  to  the  study 
of  its  laws,  and  then  of  those  which  govern  all  created 
nature.  The  fruits  of  these  studies  lay  hidden  in  manu- 
scripts, of  which  the  contents  have  only  become  fully 
known  within  the  last  quarter  of  a  century.  So  by  a 
curibus  appositeness  he  is  associated  in  each  age  with  the 


INTRODUCTION  3 

predominant  current  of  its  activity.  His  versatility  in 
the  arts  caused  him  to  seem  an  embodiment  of  the  spirit 
of  the  Renaissance.  Alike  as  painter,  sculptor,  architect, 
engineer,  and  musician,  he  aroused  the  wonder  and 
admiration  of  his  contemporaries.  But  to  them,  the 
studies  which  traversed  the  whole  domain  of  nature,  pre- 
figuring in  their  scope  what  the  spirit  of  the  Renaissance 
should  afterwards  become,  were  so  imperfectly  compre- 
hended as  to  seem  mere  trifles,  €  ghiribizzi,'  to  be 
mentioned  apologetically,  if  at  all,  as  showing  the  wayward 
inconstancy  of  genius,  and  with  regret  on  account  of  the 
time  thus  wasted  which  might  have  been  spent  on 
painting.  Modern  savants  have  resolved  these  trifles, 
and  in  so  doing  have  estimated  the  value  of  Leonardo's 
discoveries  and  observations  in  the  realms  of  exact 
science.  They  have  acclaimed  him  as  one  of  the  greatest 
of  savants  :  not  in  completed  endeavour  which  of  itself 
reached  fruition,  but  in  conjecture  and  prefigurement  of 
what  the  progress  of  science  has  in  course  of  centuries 
established.  Such  conjecture,  moreover,  was  not 
grounded  in  fantasy,  but  was  the  harvest  of  a  lifetime  of 
study  of  natural  phenomena,  and  of  close  analysis  of 
their  laws.  Anatomist,  mathematician,  chemist,  geologist, 
botanist,  astronomer,  geographer, — the  application  of 
each  of  these  titles  is  fully  justified  by  the  contents  of 
his  manuscripts  at  Milan,  Paris,  Windsor,  and  London. 

To  estimate  aright  the  value  of  his  researches  in  the 
various  domains  of  science  would  require  an  almost 
encyclopaedic  width  of  knowledge.  In  respect  to  these 
Leonardo  himself  in  his  manuscripts  must  be  accounted 
his  own  best  biographer,  in  spite  of  what  may  appear  the 


4  INTRODUCTION 

enigmatic  brevity  of  some  of  his  statements  and  infer- 
ences.   It  is  not  possible  to  claim  for  him  originality  in 
discovery  in  all  the  points  wherein  his  researches  antici- 
pated principles  which  were   subsequently  established. 
So  incomplete  is  the  record  of  the  intellectual  life  of 
Milan  under  the  Sforzas,  which  has  survived  the  storms 
of  invasion  that  subsequently  broke  upon  the  city,  as  to 
cause  positive  statement  on  this  point  to  be  wellnigh 
impossible ;  something,  however,  should  be  allowed  for 
the  results  of  his   intercourse  with  those  who  were 
occupied  in  the  same  fields  of  research.    We  are  told 
that  at  a  later  period  he  was  the  friend  of  Marc  Antonio 
della  Torre  who  held  the  Chair  of  Anatomy  in  the 
University  of  Pavia,  and  that  they  mutually  assisted 
each  other's  studies-    He  was  also  the  friend  of  Fra 
Luca  Pacioli  the  mathematician,  and  drew  the  diagrams 
for  his  De  DMna  Proportion^  and  the  two  were  com- 
panions for  some  time  in  the  autumn  and  winter  of 
1499,  after  leaving  Milan  together  at  the  time  of  the 
French  invasion.    Numerous  references  and  notes  which 
occur  throughout  the  manuscripts  show  that  he  was 
indefatigable  in  seeking  to   acquire  knowledge  from 
every  possible  source,  either  by  obtaining  the  loan  of 
books  or  treatises,  or  by  application  to  those  interested 
in  the  same  studies.    From  the  astrologers  then  to  be 
found  at  Ludovic's  court — Ambrogio  da  Rosate  and  the 
othersr-he  learnt  nothing-    He  rated  their  wisdom  on 
a  par  with  that  of  the  alchemists  and  the  seekers  after 
perpetual  motion.    His  study  of  the  heavens  differed 
from  theirs  as  much  in  method  as  in  purpose*    His 
instruments  were  scientific!  and  even  at  times  suggestively 


INTRODUCTION  $ 

modern.  The  line  in  the  Codice  Atlantico  *  construct 
glasses  to  see  the  moon  large '  (fa  occhiali  da  vedere  la 
luna  grande)  refers,  however,  only  to  the  use  of  magni- 
fying glasses ;  the  invention  of  the  telescope  is  to  be 
assigned  to  the  century  following. 

At  the  commencement  of  the  sixteenth  century,  the 
Ptolemaic  theory  of  the  Universe  was  still  held  in 
universal  acceptance.  Leonardo  at  first  accepted  it,  and 
in  his  earlier  writings  the  earth  is  represented  as  fixed, 
with  the  sun  and  moon  revolving  round  it.  He  ended  at 
some  stage  further  on  in  the  path  of  modern  discovery. 
On  a  page  of  mathematical  notes  at  Windsor  he  has 
"written  in  large  letters, c  the  sun  does  not  move  *  (il  sole 
no  si  muove). 

He  has  been  spoken  of  as  the  forerunner  of  Bacon,  of 
James  Watt,  of  Sir  Isaac  Newton,  of  William  Harvey. 
He  cannot  be  said  to  have  anticipated  the  discoveries 
with  which  their  names  are  associated.  It  may,  however, 
be  claimed  that  he  anticipated  the  methods  of  investiga- 
tion which,  when  pursued  to  their  logical  issue,  could 
not  but  lead  to  these  discoveries. 

The  great  anatomist  Vesalius,  after  having  given  up 
his  Chair  of  Anatomy  in  1561  in  order  to  become  the 
court  physician  at  Madrid,  spoke  of  himself  as  still 
looking  forward  to  studying  c  that  true  bible  as  we  count 
it  of  the  human  body  and  of  the  nature  of  man/  Sir 
Michael  Foster  takes  these  words  as^the  keynote  of  the 
life-work  of  Vesalius: — cthe  true  bible  to  read  is  nature 
itself,  things  as  they  are,  not  the  printed  pages  of  Galen 
or  another;  science  comes  by  observation  not  by 
authority.9  In  method  Leonardo  was  the  forerunner 


6  INTRODUCTION 

of  Vesalius,  and  consequently  of  William  Harvey,  whose 
great  work  was  the  outcome  of  Vesalius's  teaching.  No 
passage  in  his  writings  constitutes  an  anticipation  of 
Harvey's  discovery.  He  knew  that  the  blood  moved 
just  as  he  also  knew  that  the  sun  did  not  move,  but  the 
law  of  the  circulation  of  the  blood  was  as  far  beyond 
the  stage  at  which  his  deductions  had  arrived  as  was  the 
discovery  of  Copernicus.  It  was  his  work  to  establish, 
even  before  the  birth  of  Vesalius,  that  *  science  comes 
by  observation  not  by  authority/  Yet  he  was  no  mere 
empiric.  He  knew  the  authorities.  He  quotes  in  his 
manuscripts  from  Mundinus's  Anatomia,  and  he  must 
have  known  the  work  of  Galen  to  which  Mundinus 
served  as  an  introduction.  At  a  time  when  the  Church 
*  taught  the  sacredness  of  the  human  corpse,  and  was 
ready  to  punish  as  a  sacrilege  the  use  of  the  anatomist's 
scalpel/  Leonardo  practised  dissection ;  and  he  suffered 
in  consequence  of  his  temerity,  since  it  was  subsequent 
to  the  malicious  laying  of  information  concerning  these 
experiments  that  the  withdrawal  of  the  papal  favour 
brought  about  his  departure  from  Rome  in  1515.  Of 
such  temerity  the  anatomical  drawings  are  a  rich  harvest. 
The  pall  of  authority  was  thrown  aside  ;  the  primary  need 
was  for  actual  investigation,  and  of  this  they  are  a  record. 
He  would  agree,  he  says,  as  to  it  being  better  for  the 
student  to  watch  a  demonstration  in  anatomy  than  to  see 
his  drawings  '  if  only  it  were  possible  to  observe  all  the 
details •  shown  in  these  drawings  in  a  single  figure;  in 
which,  with  all  your  ability,  you  will  not  see  nor  acquire 
a  knowledge  of  more  than  some  few  veins,  while,  in 
order  to  obtain  an  exacc  and  complete  knowledge  of 


INTRODUCTION  7 

these,  I  have  dissected  more  than  ten  human  bodies, 
destroying  all  the  various  members  and  removing  even 
the  very  smallest  particles  of  the  flesh  which  surrounded 
these  veins,  without  causing  any  effusion  of  blood  other 
than  the  imperceptible  bleeding  of  the  capillary  veins.* 

It  was  after  his  examination  of  these  drawings  that 
the  great  anatomist  Dr.  William  Hunter  wrote  that  he 
was  fully  of  opinion  that  c  Leonardo  was  the  best 
Anatomist  at  that  time  in  the  world.' 

Coleridge  called  Shakespeare  c  myriad-minded.'  If  the 
Baconian  contention  were  established  the  result  would 
afford  a  parallel  to  the  myriad-mindedness  of  Leonardo. 
Morelli  speaks  of  him  as  *  perhaps  the  most  richly  gifted 
by  nature  among  all  the  sons  of  men.'  Equally  emphatic 
is  the  tribute  of  Francis  i.  recorded  by  Benvenuto 
Cellini :  c  He  did  not  believe  that  any  other  man  had 
come  into  the  world  who  had  attained  so  great  knowledge 
as  Leonardo,  and  that  not  only  as  sculptor,  painter,  and 
architect,  for  beyond  that  he  was  a  profound  philosopher/ 

In  regard  to  this  undefined,  ungarnered  knowledge  the 
prevalent  note  of  the  early  biographers  is  frankly  the 
marvellous.  To  us  his  personality  seems  to  outspan 
the  confines  of  his  age,  to  project  itself  by  the  inherent 
force  of  its  vitality  down  into  modern  times  and  so  to 
take  its  due  place  among  the  intuitive  influences  of 
modern  thought.  To  them  on  the  other  hand  his 
personality  projecting  beyond  the  limits  of  his  own  age 
seemed  to  stretch  back  into  the  age  of  legend,  to  gather 
something  of  its  insouciance  and  its  mystery.  The  figure 
— never  sufficiently  to  be  extolled  for  beauty  of  person 
— wandering  through  princes'  courts  improvising  songs, 


8  INTRODUCTION 

bearing  a  lute  as  a  gift  from  one  patron  to  another,  and 
pkying  upon  it  in  such  skilled  fashion  that  that  alone 
out  of  all  the  arts  of  which  he  had  knowledge  would 
suffice  as  'open  sesame*  to  win  him  welcome,  seems 
indeed  rather  to  have  its  habitation  in  Provence  at  the 
close  of  the  twelfth  century  than  to  be  that  of  a  contem- 
porary and  fellow-citizen  of  Macchiavelli  and  Savonarola. 
In  lieu  of  any  such  period  of  toilsome  apprenticeship  as 
Vasari's  biographies  lead  us  customarily  to  expect,  there 
seems  almost  a  Pallas-like  maturity  at  birth*    The  angel 
painted  by  him  when  an  apprentice  causes  his  master  to 
abandon  the  use  of  the  brush,  in  chagrin  that  a  mere 
child  had  surpassed  him ;  and  so,  in  like  manner,  we  are 
told  that  a  monster  which  he  painted  on  a  shield  filled 
his  own  father  with    dismay.      Unsatisfied   with   this 
mastery  of  the  arts  he  sought  to  discern  the  arcana  of 
nature;  and  whither  the  quest  had  led  him  it  was  not 
for  a  mere  biographer  to  say.    But  each  will  help  you  to 
conjecture,  with  hints  more  expressive  than  words,  and 
less  rebuttable.    Leonardo's  scornful  references  to  the 
pretended  wisdom  of  alchemists,  astrologers,  and  necro- 
mancers lay  hidden  meanwhile  in  the  manuscripts,  not 
available  to  contravene  such  suppositions. 

The  personality  as  represented  in  the  early  biographies 
is  substantially  that  which  is  expressed  in  the  phrase  of 
Michelet  *  Leonard,  ce  frere  italien  de  Faust/  It  tells 
of  him  that  he  chose  rather  to  know  than  to  be,  and 
that  curiosity  led  him  within  the  forbidden  portals  !  It 
represents  in  fact  the  popular  mediaeval  conception  of 
scientific  study.  Much  of  the  modern  aesthetic  appreci- 
ation is  in  its  essential  conception  a  more  temperate 


INTRODUCTION  9 

re-statement  of  the  same  point  of  view.  Errors — or  at 
any  rate  some  of  them  ! — are  corrected  in  the  light  of  the 
results  of  critical  research  from  Amoretti  downwards : 
the  outlook  nevertheless  remains  that  of  Vasari  and 
the  Anonimo  Fiorentino !  Ruskin's  dictum,  that  *  he 
debased  his  finer  instincts  by  caricature  and  remained  to 
the  end  of  his  days  the  slave  of  an  archaic  smile,9  is  at 
one  with  the  opinion  of  the  folk  of  Wittenberg  who 
lamented  Faust's  use  of  the  unhallowed  arts  which  had 
made  him  Helen's  lover.  The  true  analogy  Ifes  not  with 
Faust  but  with  Goethe,  between  whom  and  Leonardo 
there  is  perhaps  as  great  a  psychological  resemblance  as 
ever  has  existed  between  two  men  of  supreme  genius. 
In  each  the  purely  artistic  and  creative  faculties  became 
subordinate,  mastered  by  the  sanity  of  the  philosophical 
faculties. 

In  each  alike  the  restless  workings  of  the  human 
spirit  desiring  to  know>  ranged  over  the  various  mediums 
of  artistic  expression,  tempered  them  to  its  uses,  and 
finally  passed  on,  looking  beyond  the  art  to  the  thought 
itself,  unsatisfied  with  what — even  in  its  perfection  of 
utterance — was  but  a  pale  reflex  of  the  phenomena  it 
would  observe.  The  two  parts  of  Goethe's  Faust  drama 
symbolise  the  gradual  change  of  purpose,  and  may 
perhaps  serve  to  represent  Leonardo's  two  spheres  of 
activity.  Verrocchio's  bottega  and  all  the  influences  of 
the  art  world  of  Florence  in  the  Quattrocento  were  for 
him  tutelage  and  training,  as  the  mediaeval  chap-book 
legends  and  the  newly  arisen  literature  of  the  Romantic 
School  were  for  the  poet  of  Weimar.  The  result  in 
each  case  was  limpid,  serene,  majestic,  for  the  elements 


10  INTRODUCTION 

which  had  gone  to  the  making  of  it,  had  been  fused 
molten  in  the  flame-heat  of  genius.  Yet  the  man  behind 
the  artist  is  still  unsatisfied.  He  never  shares  the  artist's 
accomplishment  with  such  measure  of  absorption  as 
characterised  Raphael  and  Giovanni  Bellini.  He  has 
something  of  the  aloofness  of  Faust.  There  is  that 
within  him  which  art's  appeal  to  the  senses  never  kindled 
into  life,  never  impelled  to  utter  to  one  of  its  moments 
the  supreme  shibboleth  of  Hedonism,  '  Stay,  thou  art  so 
fair.'  All  the  allurements  of  the  mediaeval  chap-book 
legend  were  revealed  in  the  first  part  of  the  Faust  drama, 
then,  this  invocation  being  as  yet  unuttered,  the  thinker 
essays  the  problem.  No  beaten  footsteps  as  before  in 
this  new  avenue  of  approach  !  No  clear  limpidity  of 
ordered  effort !  Titanic  energy  struggles  p  linfully  amid 
the  chaos  of  dimly-perceived  primaeval  forces.  The  re- 
sult— even  the  very  effort  itself — according  to  much 
critical  opinion,  was  an  artistic  mistake. 

The  same  judgment  was  passed  on  Leonardo's  work 
as  philosopher  and  scientist  by  the  earliest  of  his  bio- 
graphers. Yet  in  each  case  the  thinker  is  nearer  to  the 
verities.  Faust  is  regenerated  by  the  service  of  man 
from  out  of  the  hell  of  mediaeval  tradition.  It  was  the 
cramping  fetter  of  mediaeval  tradition  upon  thought 
which  Leonardo  toiled  to  unloose.  It  was  his  aim  to 
extend  the  limits  of  man's  knowledge  of  himself,  of  his 
structure,  of  his  environments,  of  all  the  forms  of  life 
around  him,  of  the  manner  of  the  building  up  of  the 
earth  and  sea,  and  of  the  firmament  of  the  heavens. 
To  this  end  he  toiled  at  the  patient  exposition  of  natural 
things,  steadfastly,  and  in  proud  confidence  of  purpose. 


INTRODUCTION  n 

*  I  wish/  he  says,  *  to  work  miracles  ;  I  may  have  fewer 
possessions  than  other  men  who  are  more  tranquil  and 
those  who  wish  to  grow  rich  in  a  day.' 

Inchoate  and  comparatively  barren  of  result  as  was 
his  investigation  of  natural  phenomena,  it  nevertheless 
was  actual  investigation,  and  it  attained  results.  We 
may  instance  the  passages  in  the  manuscript  at  Holkham 
Hall,  in  which  the  fact  of  fossil  shells  being  found  in  the 
higher  mountain  ridges  of  Lombardy,  is  used  by  a  pro- 
cess of  deductive  reasoning,  to  show  how  at  one  time 
the  waters  covered  the  earth.  The  hypothetical  argu- 
ment'that  the  presence  of  these  shells  is  to  be  attributed 
to  the  Flood,  he  meets  by  considering  the  rate  of  the 
cockle's  progress.  It  is  a  creature  possessed  of  no  swifter 
power  of  motion  than  the  snail  has  when  out  of  water. 
It  cannot  swim,  but  makes  a  furrow  in  the  sand  by 
means  of  its  sides,  and  travels  in  this  furrow  a  space  of 
three  to  four  braccia  daily,  and  by  such  a  method  of 
progression,  it  could  not  in  forty  days  have  travelled 
from  the  Adriatic  to  Monferrato  in  Lombardy,  a  distance 
of  two  hundred  and  fifty  miles.  Neither  is  it  a  case  of 
dead  shells  having  been  carried  there  by  the  force  of  the 
waves,  for  the  living  are  recognisable  by  the  shells  being 
in  pairs.  Many  other  passages  in  the  manuscripts  might 
be  cited  to  show  by  what  varied  paths  he  anticipated  the 
modern  methods  of  scientific  investigation.  The  words 
which  Pater  uses  of  the  Renaissance  of  the  fifteenth 
century,  *  in  many  things  great  rather  by  what  it  de- 
signed or  aspired  to  do  than  by  what  it  actually  achieved  * 
— applicable  to  Leonardo  in  respect  of  his  work  as  an 
artist, — are  no  whit  the  less  applicable  in  reference  to  his 


12  INTRODUCTION 

work  in  science.     Painting  and  sculpture  filled  only  two 
of  the  facets  of  a  mind,  which,  as  a  crystal,  took  the 
light  from  whatever  quarter  light  came.    As,  however,  it 
was  in  these  arts  that  he  accomplished  most,  so  such  of 
his  writings  as  treat  of  them  are  on  the  whole  the  most 
practical.    In  science,  for  the  most  part  he  heralded  the 
work  of  others ;  in  respect  to  his  writings  on  art,  we 
may  apply  to  him  the  words  which  Diirer  uses  of  himself 
in  a  similar  connection,  c  what  he  set  down  with  the  pen 
he  did  with  the  hand.*    It  is  this  very  factor  of  experi- 
ence working  in  the  mind,  which  at  times  causes  an 
abrupt  antithesis  in  the  transition  from  the  general  prin- 
ciple to  discussion  of  the  n\eans  whereby  it  should  be 
realised.    His  work  may  perhaps  be  considered  to  lose 
somewhat  of  its  literary  value  in  consequence,  but  it 
acquires  an  almost  unique  interest  among  treatises  on  art 
by  its  combination  of  the  two  standpoints  of  theory  and 
practice.     Of  this,  one  of  the  most  striking  instances 
occurs  in  a  passage  which  is  only  to  be  found  in  the 
recension  of  the  Treatise  on  Painting  in  the  Vatican 
(Ludwig,  cap.  180),    Leonardo  there  sums  up,  tritely 
and  profoundly,  what  should  be  the  painter's  purpose,  *  a 
good  painter  has  two  chief  objects  to  paint,  man  and  the 
intention  of  his  soul,  the  former  is  easy  the  latter  hard ' ; 
after  which  follows  the  eminently  reasonable,  if  perhaps 
unexpected  explanation, *  because  he  has  to  represent  it 
by  the  attitudes  and  movements  of  the  limbs  * ;  and  the 
knowledge  of  these  he  proceeds  to  say  should  be  acquired 
by  observing  the  dumb,  because  their  movements  are 
more  natural  than  those  of  any  other  class  of  persons. 
This  very  practical  direction  how  to  approach  towards 


INTRODUCTION  13 

the  realisation  of  an  apparently  abstract  aim  is  entirely 
characteristic  of  his  intention.  The  supreme  misfortune, 
he  says,  is  when  theory  outstrips  performance.  This 
essential  practicality  of  mind  brought  about  the  result  that 
in  the  more  abstract  portions  of  this  branch  of  his  writings 
his  zest  for  first  principles  is  most  apparent.  The  sun,  the 
origin  of  light  and  shade,  is  recognised  as  the  first  artist, 
and  we  are  told  that  *  the  first  picture  consisted  merely 
in  a  line  which  surrounded  the  shadow  of  a  man  cast  by 
the  sun  upon  a  wall';  and  the  comparison  of  poetry  and 
painting  resolves  itself  into  a  consideration  of  the  relative 
importance  of  the  senses  to  which  the  two  arts  make 
their  appeal* 

It  is  perhaps  in  the  passages  which  indicate  the 
manner  in  which  particular  scenes  and  actions  should  be 
represented  in  art  that  Leonardo's  powers  as  a  writer 
find  their  most  impressive  utterance.  His  natural  in- 
clination impelled  him  to  the  contemplation  of  the  vast 
and  awe-inspiring  in  nature ;  but  in  these  terse,  vivid, 
analytic  descriptions,  the  consideration  of  the  ultimate 
purpose  operates  throughout  to  restrain  and  co-ordinate. 
The  descriptive  passage  entitled  c  the  way  to  represent  a 
battle,*  in  which  the  effect  is  built  up  entirely  by  fidelity 
of  detail,  forms  indeed  a  veritable  triumph  of  realism. 
There  can  be  no  possibility  of  difference  of  opinion  as  to 
how  Leonardo  regarded  warfare.  It  was  a  grim  neces- 
sity, and  he  was  himself  busied  on  occasions  in  devising 
its  instruments;  but  he  had  no  illusions  as  to  its  real 
nature,  he  characterises  it  elsewhere  as  a  *  bestial  frenzy ' 
(bestiallissima  pazzia).  Here,  however,  he  never  suffers 
his  pen  to  digress  from  the  work  of  simple  description. 


i4  INTRODUCTION 

To  generalise  would  be  alien  to  his  purpose,  which  is  to 
show  how  to  portray  a  battle  in  progress.  Consequently 
he  shows  what  it  is  that  is  actually  happening  amid  the 
clouds  of  dust  and  smoke  and  the  rain  of  gunshot  and 
falling  arrows  ;  and  describes  tersely,  graphically,  relent- 
lessly the  passions  and  agonies  of  the  combatants  as 
shown  in  their  faces  and  their  actions,  the  bitterness  of 
the  deaths  of  the  vanquished,  the  fury  and  exhaustion 
of  the  victors  and  the  mad  terror  of  the  horses,  since 
these  should  find  a  place  in  the  work  of  whosoever  would 
represent  war ;  <  and  see  to  it,*  he  says  in  conclusion, 
'that  you  make  no  level  spot  of  ground  that  is  not 
trampled  over  with  blood.*  The  passage  enables  us  in 
part  to  realise  what  he  sets  himself  to  represent  in  the 
picture  of  the  Battle  of  Anghiari,  It  is,  however,  far 
more  than  a  mere  note  for  a  picture.  It  possesses  an 
interest  and  value  apart  either  from  this  fact  or  from 
the  mastery  in  the  art, of  writing  which  it  reveals.  Its 
ultimate  value  is  moral  and  didactic.  He  forbears  to 
generalise  but  constrains  the  reader  in  his  stead.  His. 
description  is  of  the  identical  spirit  which  has  animated 
the  creations  of  Tolstoi  and  Verestchagin,  Like  these 
Leonardo  seems  to  seek  to  make  war  impossible,  by 
showing  it  stripped  of  all  its  pageantry  and  trappings,  in 
its  naked  and  hideous  reality. 

The  passages  which  describe  a  tempest  and  a  deluge 
and  their  representation  in  painting  possess  the  same 
vigorous  realism  and  fidelity  of  detail,  and  contain  some 
of  Leonardo's  most  eloquent  and  picturesque  writing ; 
and  among  the  other  notes  connected  with  pictures  we 
may  instance  that  for  the  *  Last  Supper/  descriptive  of 


INTRODUCTION  15 

the  actions  of  the  disciples,  which,  although  of  far 
slighter  mould  than  any  of  the  passages  already  referred 
to,  yet  possesses  a  restrained  but  very  distinct  dramatic 
power.  These  same  qualities  may  be  discerned  perhaps 
even  to  more  advantage  in  one  of  the  very  rare  comments 
on  public  events  which  are  to  be  found  in  his  writings. 
After  Ludovic  Sforza's  attempt  to  regain  possession  of 
Lombardy  had  ended  with  his  defeat  and  capture  at  the 
battle  of  Novara  in  April  1500,  Leonardo  wrote  among 
notes  on  various  matters,  *  The  Duke  has  lost  his  State, 
his  possessions,  and  his  liberty,  and  he  has  seen  none  of 
his  works  finished/  (II  Duca  perse  lo  Stato  e  la  roba 
e  la  liberta,  e  nessuna  sua  opera  si  fini  per  lui.)  Leonardo 
was  a  homeless  wanderer  in  consequence  of  the  events 
referred  to,  and  one  of  the  works  of  which  the  duke 
had  not  witnessed  the  completion  was  that  of  the  statue 
on  which  Leonardo  had  been  engaged  intermittently 
during  sixteen  years,  and  the  model  of  which  had  served 
as  a  target  for  the  French  soldiery ;  but  this  terse  im- 
passive comment  is  the  only  reference  to  these  occurrences 
found  in  his  writings.  There  is  a  certain  poignant  brevity 
and  concentration  in  the  sentence  which  suffices  even  to 
recall  some  of  the  most  inevitable  lines  of  Dante. 

It  is  within  the  narrow  limits  of  the  short  sentence 
and  the  apothegnji  that  Leonardo's  command  of  language 
is  most  luminous.  In  some  of  these  the  thought  ex- 
pressed is  so  wedded  to  the  words  as  scarcely  to  suffer 
transference.  *0osa  bella  mortale  passa  e  non  d'arte* 
is  a  type  of  the  almost  untranslatable  ;  so  also  *  Si  come 
unc  giornata  bene  spesa  dA  lieto  dormire  cosi  una  vita 
benc  usata  di  lieto  morire '  must  lose  something  of  its 


l6  INTRODUCTION 

grace  in  any  rendering.  Certain  of  these  sentences 
record  the  phenomena  of  nature  so  simply  as  to  cause 
us  almost  to  doubt  whether  they  are  intended  to  do 
more  than  this.  'All  the  flowers  which  see  the  sun 
mature  their  seed,  and  not  the  others,  that  is  those  which 
see  only  the  reflection  of  the  sun,'  is  perhaps  written  as 
an  observation  of  nature  without  thought  of  a  deeper 
meaning  ;  but  it  is  hard  to  suppose  that  a  similar  restric- 
tion applies  to  the  sentence  c  tears  come  from  the  heart 
not  from  the  brain/  although  it  is  found  in  a  manuscript 
which  treats  of  anatomy. 

It  would  seem  that  it  was  natural  to  him  as  a  writer 
to  use  words  as  symbols  and  figuratively,  thus  employing 
things  evident  and  revealed  in  metaphor.  Of  this  habit 
of  veiled  utterance  the  section  of  his  imaginative  writings 
known  as  prophecies  affords  the  most  impressive  and 
sustained  series  of  instances.  Some  few  of  these  are,  as 
their  name  implies,  a  forecast  of  future  conditions ;  many 
attack  the  vices  and  abuses  of  his  own  time.  In  the 
succinct,  antithetical  form  of  their  composition  Leonardo 
apparently  created  his  own  model. 

There  are  questions  more  intimate  than  any  of  those 
which  arise  from  the  consideration  of  his  achievement 
in  these  various  arts  and  sciences;  questions  which 
the  mere  number  of  these  external  interests,  tends  to  veil 
in  comparative  obscurity,  causing  us  to  regard  Leonardo 
almost  as  a  resultant  of  forces  rather  than  as  an  individual, 
to  see  in  him  as  it  were  an  embodiment  of  the  various 
intellectual  tendencies  of  the  Renaissance,— as  though  the 
achievements  were  the  man!  The  figure  crosses  the 
stage  of  life  in  triumph,  playing  to  perfection  many  parts  ! 


INTRODUCTION  17 

But  of  these  enough  !  Let  us  try  to  come  nearer,  to  get 
past  the  cloak  of  his  activities,  and  essay  to  c  pluck  the 
heart  out  of  this  mystery.*  As  a  means  towards  this  end, 
let  us  consider  his  attitude  with  regard  to  certain  of  the 
problems  of  life. 

His  writings  inculcate  the  highest  morality,  though 
rather  as  a  reasoned  process  of  the  mind  than  as  a  revela- 
tion from  an  external  authority.  He  preserves  so  com- 
plete a  reticence  on  the  subject  of  doctrinal  belief  as  to 
leave  very  little  base  for  inference  as  to  his  faith  or  lack  of 
faith.  The  statement  of  Vasari  that  he  did  not  conform 
to  any  religion,  deeming  it  better  perhaps  to  be  a  philoso- 
pher than  a  Christian,  was  omitted  in  the  second  edition 
of  the  Lives,  and  may  therefore  be  looked  upon  as 
probably  merely  a  crystallisation  of  some  piece  of  Flor- 
entine gossip.  It  would  be  idle  to  attempt  to  surmise 
as  to  the  reason  of  the  withdrawal.  To  whatever  cause 
it  may  have  been  due,  its  significance  is  no  whit  the  less 
as  outweighing  a  mass  of  suggestion  and  vain  repetition 
on  this  subject  by  later  writers.  In  temperament  Leo- 
nardo has  something  akin  to  certain  of  the  precursors  or 
the  Reformation.  In  any  conflict  between  the  dictates 
of  reason  and  of  authority,  he  would  be  found  on  the 
side  of  freedom  of  thought.  *  Whoever,'  he  wrote,  *  in 
discussion  adduces  authority  uses  not  his  intellect  but 
rather  memory/ 

The "  cast  of  his  mind  was  anti-clerical.  His  in- 
dignation at  the  abuses  and  corruption  of  the  Church 
found  expression  in  satire  as  direct  and  'piercing  as  that 
of  Erasmus.  His  scorn  of  the  vices  of  the  priesthood, 
of  their  encouragement  of  superstition,  of  the  trade  in 


18  INTRODUCTION 

miracles  and  pardons,  which  is  eloquently  expressed  in 
the  section  of  his  writings  known  as  c  the  prophecies/ 
may  not  unnaturally  have  earned  for  him  the  title  of 
heretic  from  those  whom  he  attacked-  His  quarrel  lay, 
however,  not  with  the  foundations  on  which  faith  rested, 
but  with  what  he  conceived  to  be  its  degradation  in 
practice  by  its  votaries.  His  own  path  lay  along  the 
field  of  scientific  inquiry  ;  but  where  the  results  of  this 
research  seemed  at  variance  with  revealed  truth,  he 
would  reserve  the  issue,  disclaiming  the  suggestion  of 
antagonism.  Nature  indeed  cannot  break  her  own  laws. 
The  processes  of  science  are  sure,~but  there  are  regions 
where  we  cannot  follow  them.  *Our  body  is  subject 
to  heaven,  and  heaven  is  subject  to  the  spirit/  So  at 
the  conclusion  of  a  passage  describing  the  natural  origin 
of  life,  he  adds, '  I  speak  not  against  the  sacred  books, 
for  they  are  supreme  truth.*  The  words  seem  a  protest 
against  the  sterile  discussion  of  these  things.  There  is 
indeed  a  reticence  in  the  expression  of  the  formulas  of 
faith,  but  the  strands  of  its  presence  may  be  seen  in  the 
web  of  life. 

The  impelling  necessity  to  use  life  fully  is  the  ever 
recurrent  burden  of  his  moral  sayings  : 

*  Life  well  spent  is  long.* 

'Thou,  O  God,  dost  sell  unto  us  all  good  things  at  the  price 
of  labour.' 

*As  a  well-spent  day  brings  happy  sleep,  so  life  well  used 
brings  happy  death/ 

This  vision  of  the  end  is  steadfast.  Death  follows 
life  even  as  sleep  rounds  off  the  day,  and  as  we  work 
well  in  the  day,  so  sleep  when  it  comes  is  happy  and 


INTRODUCTION  19 

untroubled.  During  the  passing  of  the  day  there  is  so 
much  to  be  done,  such  opportunity  to  construct  and  to 
observe,  so  much  knowledge  to  be  won  about  this  world 
wherein  the  day  is  passed,  that  there  is  scarce  time  re- 
maining in  which  to  stand  in  fear  and  wonder  at  thought 
of  what  chimeras  the  coming  shadow  may  hold  within  it. 
It  is  better  to  use  to-day  than  to  spend  it  in  questioning 
of  to-morrow.  Duty  in  life  is  clear  and  we  must  follow 
it.  When  he  speaks  of  what  comes  after,  it  is  with  that 
hesitance  common  to  all,  unless  to  speak  of  it  be  made 
habituate  by  custom,  for  to  all,  whatever  be  their  belief, 
there  yet  remains  something  unknowable  in  the  condi- 
tions of  the  change. 

In  one  of  the  most  beautiful  passages  of  his  writings, 
— a  fragment  on  time,  the  destroyer — Leonardo  de- 
scribes Helen  in  her  old  age  as  looking  into  her  mirror 
and  seeing  there  the  wrinkles  which  time  had  imprinted 
on  her  face,  and  then  weeping,  and  wondering  why  she 
had  been  twice  carried  away.  Beautiful  as  is  the  descrip- 
tion, the  hand  which  penned  it  is  pre-eminently  that  of 
the  scientist ;  we  seem  to  see  the  anatomist  at  work  with 
the  scalpel,  so  minute  is  the  observation  therein  revealed 
as  to  the  effect  of  age  and  of  the  relentless  approach  of 
death  upon  the  human  frame. 

The  frequent  recurrence  in  his  writings  and  in  his 
drawings  and  grotesques  of  the  physical  tokens  of  decay 
and  death  argues,  however,  no  morbid  predilection  such  as 
was  that  shown  by  the  painters  of  the  danse  macabre.  It 
forms  a  proportioned  part  of  his  study  and  c  patient  ex- 
position* of  the  origin  and  development  of  the  whole 


20  INTRODUCTION 

there  is  no  incursion  of  the  personal  note.  His  attitude 
is  always  that  of  an  observer,  looking  with  curious  eyes, 
noting  all  the  phenomena  of  physical  change,  but  yet 
all  the  while  preserving  a  strange  impassivity.  He  never 
in  any  of  his  works  or  in  his  manuscripts  gives  the 
suggestion  of  possessing  any  of  that  regret  at  the  passing 
of  time  which  rings  through  Giorgione's  sun-steeped 
idyls.  Indeed,  from  all  such  lament,  he  expressly  dis- 
sociates himself.  Time,  he  assevers,  stays  long  enough 
for  those  who  use  it.  The  mere  fact  of  the  inevitability 
of  death  forbids  regret.  It  therefore  cannot  be  an  evil. 
He  speaks  of  it  as  taking  away  the  memory  of  evil,  and 
compares  it  with  the  sleep  which  follows  after  the  day. 
The  thought  of  this  sleep  brings  silence  :  when  on  rare 
occasion  the  silence  is  broken,  he  stands  with  Shake- 
speare and  Montaigne,  revealing,  as  they  do,  when  they 
address  themselves  to  the  same  question,  a  quiet  confi- 
dence, serene  and  proud. 

The  author  of  Virginibus  Puerisque  discoursing  whim- 
sically upon  the  incidence  and  attributes  of  the  tender 
passion,  professes  his  utter  inability  to  comprehend  how 
any  member  of  his  own  sex,  with  at  most  two  exceptions, 
can  ever  have  been  found  worthy  to  be  its  object.  *  It 
might  be  very  well,'  he  says,  <  if  the  Apollo  Belvedere 
should  suddenly  glow  all  over  into  life,  and  step  forward 
from  the  pedestal  with  that  god-like  air  of  his.  But  of 
the  misbegotten  changelings  who  call  themselves  men 
and  prate  intolerably  over  dinner-tables,  I  never  saw  one 
who  seemed  worthy  to  inspire  love — no,  nor  read  of 
any  except  Leonardo  da  Vinci  and  perhaps  Goethe  in  his 


INTRODUCTION  21 

The  suggestion  as  to  the  Apollo  Belvedere  is  in  entire 
harmony  with  the  associations  of  the  names  which  follow. 
For  if  it  had  ever  come  to  pass,  as  is  conjectured  in 
Heine's  fantasy,  that  the  gods  of  Greece,  after  their 
worship  ceased,  fallen  on  days  of  adversity,  and  con- 
strained to  baser  uses,  had  walked  the  earth  as  men,  surely 
no  lives  whereof  record  holds  had  come  more  naturally  to 
Apollo's  lot  than  would  those  of  Goethe  and  Leonardo  ! 

It  would  be  vain  to  attempt  to  find  better  instances, 
yet  these  give  only  a  capricious  support  at  best  to 
Stevenson's  contention.  They  afford  far  more  proof 
of  his  amazing  temerity  in  attempting  to  view  the 
kingdom  of  sentiment  from  the  feminine  standpoint. 
These  two  names  he  ranks  together  in  isolation  from  the 
rest  of  their  sex — and  this  in  respect  precisely  of  that 
condition  wherein  the  records  of  their  lives  reveal  the 
least  resemblance.  Goethe  was  as  susceptible  and  almost 
as  fickle  as  Jupiter  himself.  The  story  of  his  heart  is  a 
romance  with  many  chapters,  each  enshrining  a  new  name, 
and  all  ending  abruptly  at  the  stage  at  which  the  poet 
remembers — at  times  somewhat  tardily — the  paramount 
claims  of  his  art. 

But  in  the  case  of  Leonardo  there  are  no  grounds  for 
supposing  that  any  one  such  chapter  was  ever  begun.  None 
of  his  biographers  connect  his  name  with  that  of  any 
woman  in  the  way  of  love,  nor  do  his  own  writings  afford 
any  such  indication.  They  show  that  he  lived  only  for 
the  things  of  the  mind.  He  would  seem  to  have  re- 
nounced deliberately  all  thought  of  participation  in  the 
tenderness  of  human  relationship.  He  looked  upon  it 
as  alien  to  the  artist's  supreme  purpose :  he  must 


22  INTRODUCTION 

needs  be  solitary  in  order  to  live  entirely  for  his  art. 
His  conception  of  the  mental  conditions  requisite  for 
the  production  of  great  art  presupposes  something 
of  that  isolation  expressed  in  Pater's  phrase:  *each 
mind  keeping  as  a  solitary  prisoner  its  own  dream  of 
a  world/ 

The  praise  of  solitude  has  ever  been  a  fecund  theme, 
although  much  of  the  fervour  of  its  votaries  has  resulted 
in  little  more  than  a  reverberation  of  the  monkish  jingle, 
c  O  heata  solitudo,  O  sola  beatitudo/  In  so  far  as  praise 
of  solitude  is  dispraise  of  the  world  and  fellow-men  and 
the  expression  of  desire  to  shun  them  and  their  activities 
it  is  a  sterile  thing  and  worse.  Solitude  is  unnatural 
and  only  the  use  of  it  can  justify  the  condition.  May 
be  that  even  then  the  dream  will  never  come  to  birth ! 
Certain  it  is  that  if  it  does  we  must  suffer  the  pangs 
alone! 

Concentration  of  the*  mind  comes  by  solitude ;  and 
in  this,  according  to  Leonardo,  its  value  to  the  artist 
consists.  (Se  tu  sarai  solo  tu  sarai  tutto  tuo.) 

*If  you  are  alone  you  belong  entirely  to  yourself, 
If  you  are  accompanied  even  by  one  companion  you 
belong  only  half  to  yourself,  or  even  less  in  proportion 
to  the  thoughtlessness  of  his  conduct  .  .  .  If  you  must 
have  companionship  choose  it  from  your  studio ;  it  may 
then  help  you  to  obtain  the  advantages  which  result  from 
different  methods  of  study/ 

Such  companionship  of  the  studio  implies  some  such 
measure  of  equality  of  attainment  as  it  can  never  have 
been  his  own  lot  to  meet  with  after  leaving  the  circle  of 
Verrocchio  and  the  art  world  of  Florence.  His  own 


INTRODUCTION  23 

later  companions  of  the  studio  were  his  pupils  and 
servants,  and  the  only  one  of  these  whom  he  admitted 
to  any  degree  of  personal  intimacy  was  Francesco  de* 
Melzi,  who  seems  to  have  stood  to  him  in  the  concluding 
years  of  his  life  almost  in  the  position  of 'a  son  to  a 
father. 

Behind  all  his  strength  lay  springs  of  tenderness ;  in 
life  confined  within  the  strait  limits  whereby  his  spirit 
proposed  that  its  work  should  be  more  surely  done,  in 
his  art  they  are  manifest,  therein  revealing  the  repression 
of  his  life.  His  pictures  are  now  so  few  that  it  would 
be  to  his  drawings  that  we  should  chiefly  look  for  support 
of  this  statement,  and  of  these  primarily  perhaps  to  the 
many  studies  for  Madonna  pictures,  and  the  sketches  of 
children  made  in  connection  with  them  ;  also,  however, 
to  the  two  versions  of  the  composition  of  the  Madonna 
and  Child  with  S.  Anne.  The  differences  between  that 
in  Burlington  House  and  that  in  the  Louvre  show  the 
artist's  gradual  growth  of  purpose.  One  motive,  how- 
ever, is  found  in  both,  namely,  that  the  Madonna  is 
represented  as  so  entirely  absorbed  in  her  Child  that  she 
is  entirely  unconscious  of  aught  else.  With  the  excep- 
tion of  the  Madonna  della  Seggiola,  and  perhaps  certain 
others  of  Raphael's  Madonnas,  there  is  no  Madonna 
picture  in  Italian  art  in  which  the  conception  is  more 
human  or  the  ecstasy  of  motherhood  is  rendered  with 
greater  tenderness.  So  Tart  console  de  la  vie';  and 
the  same  may  be  said  in  Leonardo's  case  of  nature 
perhaps  even  more  truly  than  of  art.  If  indeed  any 
thought  of  consolation  can  be  suffered  in  connection 
with  a  life  so  confident  and  full !  For  man's  work  is 


24  INTRODUCTION 

his  ultimate  self.  Such  human  hopes  as  begin  and  end 
in  the  individual  are  puny  even  in  their  highest  fulfil- 
ment, and  the  processes  of  nature,  whatever  their  final 
end,  seem  eternal  in  contrast  with  their  transience.  He 
interpreted  man's  highest  aim  to  consist  in  seeking  to 
know  and  to  hand  on  the  lamp  of  knowledge. 

The  task  of  the  student  who  should  attempt  to  discern 
Leonardo  amid  the  mass  of  tradition  was  compared  with 
that  ascribed  to  himself  by  the  author  of  Aetna.  In  one 
of  the  noblest  and  most  eloquently  sustained  passages  of 
that  work,  the  poet  characterises  the  investigation  of 
the  forces  of  nature,  and  of  the  various  phenomena  of 
earth,  sea,  and  sky,  as  the  highest  of  all  the  objects  of 
intellectual  effort,  and  one  which  constituted  in  itself  its 
own  highest  reward.  The  lines  serve  as  a  description 
of  Leonardo's  purpose,  and  his  writings  reveal  how  far 
this  purpose  was  accomplished. 

Non  oculis  solum  pecudum  miranda  tucri 
More,  nee  effusos  in  humum  graue  pascerc  corpus, 
Nosse  fidcm  rcrum  dubiasquc  cxquirerc  causas, 
Ingenium  sacrarc  caputqir  attollerc  caelo, 
Scire  quot  ct  quae  smt  magno  natalia  mundo 
Principia,  occasus  mctuunt  an  saccula  pergunt,  .  .  , 

Et  quaecumque  iaccnt  tamo  miracula  mundo 
Non  disiecta  pati,  ncc  aceruo  condita  rcrum, 
Sed  manifesta  notis  certa  dibponere  scdc 
Singula,  diuina  ebt  animi  ac  iucunda  uoluptas 


A  RECORD  OF  THE  MANUSCRIPTS 

IN  the  opening  lines  of  the  volume  of  manuscript  notes 

*  begun  at  Florence  in  the  house  of  Piero  di  Braccio 
Martelli,  on  the  22nd  day   of  March,   1508,'    now  in 
the  British   Museum   (Arundel  MSS.    263),  Leonardo 
explains  the  method  of  its  composition.     The  passage 
may  serve  to   summarise   the  impression  made  by  the 
whole  mass  of  Leonardo's  manuscripts.     *  This,'  he  says, 

*  will  be  a  collection  without  order,  made  up  of  many 
sheets  which  I  have  copied  here,  hoping  afterwards  to 
arrange  them  in  order  in  their  proper  places  according 
to  the  subjects  of  which  they  treat ;  and  I  believe  that 
before  I  am  at  the  end  of  this  1  shall  have  to  i  epeat  the 
same   thing   several   times ;    and    therefore,   O   reader, 
blame  me  not,  because  the  subjects  are  many,  and  the 
memory  cannot  retain  them    and  say  "this  I  will  not 
write  because  I  have  already  written  it "  ;  and  if  I  wished  to 
avoid  falling  into  this  mistake- it  would  be  necessary,  in 
order  to  prevent  repetition,  that  on  every  occasion  when  I 
wished  to  transcribe  a  passage  I  should  always  read  over 
all  the  preceding  portion,  and  this  especially  because  long 
periods  of  time  elapse  between  one  time  of  writing  and 
another.'     Certain  pages  in  the  volume  of  manuscript  in 
the  British  Museum  would  indeed  seem  to  be  of  a  much 
earlier    date  than   this   introductory  sentence,   and   the 
whole  body  of  the  manuscripts  as  may  be  shown  by  the 


25 


26  A  RECORD  OF  THE  MANUSCRIPTS 

time-references  contained  in  them,  extend  over  a  period 
of  some  forty  years,  from  Leonardo's  early  manhood  to 
his  old  age.  He  commenced  them  during  the  time  of 
his  first  residence  in  Florence,  and  was  still  adding  to 
them  when  at  Amboise. 

The  contents  of  this  *  collection  without  order  *  are  so 
diversified  as  to  render  wellnigh  impossible  any  attempt 
at  formal  classification.  In  addition  to  the  numerous 
fragments  of  letters,  the  personal  records,  the  notes 
relating  to  his  work  as  an  artist,  and  the  fragments  of 
imaginative  composition  which  are  to  be  found  therein, 
it  presents  by  far  the  most  complete  record  of  his  mental 
activity,  and  this  may  be  said  without  exaggeration  to 
have  extended  into  practically  all  the  avenues  of  human 
knowledge.  These  manuscripts  serve  in  a  sense  to  show 
the  mind  in  its  workshop,  busied  in  researching,  in 
making  conjecture,  and  in  recording  phenomena, 
tempering  to  its  uses,  in  so  far  as  human  instrument 
may,  the  vast  forces  of  nature. 

He  projected  many  treatises  which  should  embody  the 
results  of  these  researches.  Notes  in  the  manuscripts 
themselves  record  the  various  stages  of  their  composition. 
Some  still  exist  in  a  more  or  less  complete  form.  Of 
the  "fragments  of  others  the  order  of  arrangement  is  now 
only  a  matter  of  conjecture.  In  the  manuscripts  at 
Windsor,  which  treat  mainly  of  anatomy,  a  note,  dated 
April  2,  1489,  speaks  of  writing  the  book  *  about  the 
human  figure/  The  manuscript  given  to  the  Ambrosian 
Library  by  Cardinal  Federico  Borromeo,  now  MS.  C.  of 
the  Institut  de  France,  which  is  a  treatise  on  light  and 
shade,  contains  a  note  that  *  on  the  ^3rd  day  of  April 


A  RECORD  OF  THE  MANUSCRIPTS  27 

1490,  I  commenced  this  book  and  recommenced  the 
horse' — the  latter  reference  being  to  the  equestrian 
statue  of  Francesco  Sforza.  In  August  1499  a  note  in 
the  Codice  Atlantic©  states  that  he  was  then  writing 
<  upon  movement  and  weight*  These  dates  are,  how- 
ever, of  relatively  less  importance,  because  each  of  these 
subjects  occupied  his  thoughts  during  a  long  period  of 
years.  The  two  first  formed  a  part  of  the  artist's  com- 
plete equipment  as  Leonardo  conceived  it :  the  third 
found  practical  issue  in  his  undertakings  in  canalisation 
and  engineering  in  Lombardy,  Tuscany,  Romagna,  and 
elsewhere.  In  connection  with  the  former  of  these  two 
divisions  of  his  activities  may  be  cited  the  treatise  on  the 
nature  of  water  in  the  possession  of  the  Earl  of  Leicester, 
and  the  same  subject  is  also  treated  of  among  others  in 
MS.  F.  of  the  Institut,  which,  according  to  a  note,  was 
commenced  at  Milan  on  the  lath  of  September  1508. 

The  manuscripts  as  a  whole  are  picturesquely  described 
in  the  diary  of  a  certain  Antonio  de  Beads,  the  secretary 
of  the  Cardinal  of  Aragon,  who  with  his  patron  visited 
Leonardo  at  Amboise  in  October  1517.  The  many 
wanderings  of  the  painter's  life  were  then  ended,  and  he 
was  living  with  Francesco  Melzi  and  his  servant  Battista 
de  Villanis  in  the  manor  house  of  Clcux,  the  gift  of 
Francis  r.  The  diary  relates  that  he  showed  his  guests 
three  pictures,  the  S.  John,  the  Madonna  with  S.  Anne, 
and  the  portrait  of  a  Florentine  lady,  painted  at  the 
request  of  Guiliano  de*  Medici,  which  cannot  now  be 
identified.  It  further  states  that  paralysis  had  attacked 
his  right  hand,  and  that  therefore  he  could  no  longer 
paint  with  such  sweetness  as  formerly,  but  still  occupied 


28  A  RECORD   OF  THE  MANUSCRIPTS 

himself  in  making  drawings  and  giving  instruction  to 
others.  (May  the  inference  be  that  he  then  drew  with 
the  left  hand?  If  so  he  presumably  used  it  in  the 
manuscripts,  which  are  written  backwards.) 

'This    gentleman    has/    he    continues,    'written   of 
anatomy  with  such  wealth  of  detail,  illustrating  by  his 
art  both  limbs  and  muscles,  nerves,  veins  and  ligaments 
of  the  inward  parts,  and  of  all  that  may  be  demonstrated 
in  the  bodies  of  men  and  of  women,  in  a  way  that  has 
never  before  been  equalled  by  any  one  else.     And  this 
we  have  seen  with  our  own  eyes,  and  he  has  also  told  us 
that  he  has  dissected  more  than  thirty  bodies  of  men 
and  women  of  all  different  ages.     He  has  also  treated  of 
the  nature  of  water,  of  various  machines,  and  of  other 
matters  which  he  has  dealt  with  in  an  endless  number  of 
volumes,  and  all  in  the  common  tongue,  which  when  they 
are  made  public  will  be  profitable  and  very  delectable/ 
This  description  of  the  manuscripts — the  only  one  by  an 
eyewitness  during  Leonardo's  lifetime — leads   naturally 
to  the  supposition  that,  if  not  all,  at  any  rate  by  far  the 
greater  part  of  them  were  in  Leonardo's  possession  at 
the  time  that  he  went  to  France,  and  were  at  Cloux  at 
the  time  of  his  death. 

The  manuscripts  then  passed  into  the  possession  of 
Francesco  Mclzi,  to  whom  Leonardo  in  his  will,  dated 
April  23,  1518,  bequeathed  *  in  return  for  the  services  and 
favours  done  him  in  the  past/  *  each  and  all  of  the  books 
of  which  the  said  Testator  is  at  present  possessed,  together 
with  the  other  instruments  and  portraits  which  belong  to 
his  art  and  calling  as  a  Painter/  Melzi  returned  to 
Milan  shortly  after  Leonardo's  death  and  took  the 


A  RECORD  OF  THE  MANUSCRIPTS  29 

manuscripts  with  him,  and  four  years  later  a  certain 
Alberto  Bendedeo,  writing  from  Milan  to  Alfonso  d'Este, 
said  that  he  believed  that  the  Melzi  whom  Leonardo  made 
his  heir  was  in  possession  of  c  such  of  his  notebooks  as 
treated  of  anatomy  and  many  other  beautiful  things/ 

Vasari  visited  Milan  in  1566,  and  he  states  that  Melzi, 
whom  he  saw,  and  who  was  then  c  a  beautiful  and  gentle 
old  man/  possessed  a  great  part  of  Leonardo's  papers  of 
the  anatomy  of  the  human  body  and  kept  them  with  as 
much  care  as  though  they  were  relics.  Some  of  the 
manuscripts  had  already  at  this  time  passed  into  other 
hands,  for  Vasari  refers  to  some  which  treated  of  painting 
and  methods  of  drawing  and  colouring  as  being  then  in 
the  possession  of  a  certain  Milanese  painter  whose  name 
he  does  not  mention.  The  care  which  had  been  taken 
of  those  in  Melzi's  possession  ceased  at  his  death,  which 
occurred  in  1570.  Some  years  later  no  restriction  was 
placed  by  Melzi's  heirs  upon  the  action  of  a  certain 
Lelio  Gavardi  di  Asola,  a  tutor  in  the  Melzi  family,  who 
took  thirteen  of  the  volumes  of  manuscripts  with  him  to 
Florence  for  the  purpose  of  disposing  of  them  to  the 
Grand  Duke,  Francesco.  The  duke's  death,  however, 
prevented  the  realisation  of  this  project,  and  Gavardi 
subsequently  took  the  volumes  with  him  to  Pisa. 
Giovanni  Ambrogio  Mazzenta,  a  Milanese  who  was 
then  at  the  University  of  Pisa  studying  law,  remonstrated 
with  Gavardi  upon  his  conduct,  and  with  such  success 
that  on  Mazzenta's  return  to  Milan  in  1587  he  took  the 
volumes  with  him  for  the  purpose  of  restoring  them  to 
the  Melzi  family.  When,  however,  he  attempted  to 
perform  this  duty  Dr.  Orazio  Melzi  was  so  astonished 


jo  A  RECORD  OF  THE  MANUSCRIPTS 

at  his  solicitude  in  the  matter  that  he  made  him  a  present 
of  all  the  thirteen  volumes,  telling  him  further  that  there 
were  many  other  drawings  by  Leonardo  lying  uncared 
for  in  the  attics  of  his  villa  at  Vaprio.  In  1590 
Giovanni  Ambrogio  Mazzenta  joined  the  Barnabite 
Order  and  the  volumes  were  then  given  by  him  to  his 
brothers.  They  seem  to  have  talked  somewhat  freely 
about  the  incident,  and  in  consequence,  according  to 
Ambrogio  Mazzenta's  account,  many  people  were  filled 
with  the  desire  to  obtain  similar  treasures,  and  Orazio 
Melzi  gave  away  freely  drawings,  clay  models,  anatomical 
studies,  and  other  precious  relics  from  Leonardo's  studio. 
Among  the  others  who  thus  came  into  possession  of 
works  by  Leonardo  was  the  sculptor  Pompeo  Leoni  who 
was  employed  in  the  service  of  the  King  of  Spain.  He 
afterwards  induced  Orazio  Melzi,  by  the  promise  of 
obtaining  for  him  official  honours  and  preferment,  to 
appeal  to  Guido  Mazzenta,  in  whose  possession  they  then 
were,  to  restore  the  volumes  of  Leonardo's  manuscripts 
so  that  he  might  be  enabled  to  present  them  to  Philip  n. 
Melzi's  entreaties  were  successful  in  obtaining  the  return 
of  seven  volumes,  and  three  of  the  others  subsequently 
passed  into  Pompeo  Leoni's  possession  on  the  death  of 
one  of  the  Mazzenta.  Of  the  remaining  three,  accord- 
ing to  Mazzenta's  account,  one  was  given  to  the  Cardinal 
Federico  Borromeb,  and  passed  into  the  Ambrosian 
Library,  which  he  founded  in  1603 ;  another  was  given  to 
the  painter  Ambrogio  Figini,  who  afterwards  bequeathed 
it  to  Ercole  Bianchi ;  it  was  subsequently  in  the  possession 
of  Joseph  Smith,  English  Consul  at  Venice,  and  with 
the  sale  of  his  effects  in  1759  a^  record  of  it  ends ;  the 


A  RECORD  OF  THE  MANUSCRIPTS  31 

third  was  given  to  Charles  Emmanuel,  Duke  of  Savoy, 
and  nothing  further  is  known  as  to  its  history.  Professor 
Govi  has  conjectured  that  it  was  perhaps  burnt  in  one  of 
the  fires  which  occurred  in  the  Royal  Library  at  Turin  in 
1667  or  1679. 

Some  of  the  volumes  of  the  manuscripts  which  had 
passed  into  the  possession  of  Pompeo  Leoni  were  after- 
wards cut  in  pieces  by  him  in  order  to  form  one  large 
volume  from  the  leaves,  together  with  some  of  the 
drawings  which  he  had  obtained  from  Melzi's  vittk  at 
Vaprio,  This  volume,  known  as  the  Codice  Atlantico 
on  account  of  its  size,  contains  four  hundred  and  two 
sheets  and  more  than  seventeen  hundred  drawings,  and 
bears  on  its  cover  the  inscription  : — 

DISEGNI   DI   MACHINE   ET 
BELLE   ART!   SECRETI 

ET  ALTRE   COSE 

DI  LEONARDO  DA    VINCI 

RACOLTI   DA 

POMPEO  LEO 

NI 

Apparently  the  collector's  instinct  proved  stronger  in 
Pompeo  Leoni  than  his  original  intention.  He  was 
subsequently  in  Madrid  where  he  was  engaged  in  execut- 
ing bronzes  for  the  royal  tombs  in  the  Escurial,  but  there 
is  no  evidence  to  show  that  he  ever  parted  with  any 
of  Leonardo's  manuscripts  to  Philip  n/  The  Codice 
Atlantico  remained  in  his  possession  until  his  death 
in  1 6 10,  and  then  passed  to  his  heir,  Polidoro  Calchi,  by 
whom  it  was  sold  in  1625  to  Count  Galeazzo  ArconatL 
Two  of  Leonardo's  manuscripts  in  Pompeo  Leoni's 


3z  A  RECORD  OF  THE  MANUSCRIPTS 

possession  were  included  among  his  effects  sold  after  his 
death  at  Madrid,  and  were  then  bought  by  Don  Juan 
de  Espina.  It  would  seem  probable  that  others  of  the 
manuscripts  in  Pompeo  Leoni's  possession  descended  to 
his  heir  Calchi,  and  from  him  passed  into  the  possession 
of  Count  Arconati,  because  the  latter  in  1636  pre- 
sented twelve  volumes  of  Leonardo's  manuscripts  to 
the  Ambrosian  Library  at  Milan.  The  volume  which 
Mazzenta  had  given  to  Cardinal  Federico  Borromeo  had 
already  been  placed  there  in  1603,  and  in  1674  yet 
another  volume  of  Leonardo's  manuscripts  was  added  by 
the  gift  of  Count  Orazio  Archinti. 

Of  the  list  of  twelve  manuscripts  as  described  in  Count 
Arconati's  deed  of  gift  to  the  Ambrosian  Library,  the 
second  was  afterwards  lost,  and  the  fifth  was  removed 
from  the  Library, — it  being,  as  the  description  shows, 
identical  with  the  manuscript  of  Leonardo's  which  in 
about  the  year  1750  was  bought  from  a  Gaetano  Caccia 
of  Novara  by  Carlo  Trivulzio  and  is  now  in  the  posses- 
sion of  Prince  Trivulzio  at  Milan. — The  remaining  ten 
manuscripts  of  the  Arconatz  donation,  together  with 
the  two  from  Cardinal  Federico  Borromeo  and  Count 
Archinti  respectively,  were  in  the  Ambrosian  Library 
until  1796.  There  was  then  also  with  them  a  manuscript 
of  ten  sheets  which  treated  of  the  eye,  the  provenance  of 
which  is  unknown,  but  which  it  is  conjectured  had  been 
substituted  for  the  manuscript  now  in  the  collection  of 
Prince  Trivulzio.  These  thirteen  manuscripts  were  all 
remove^  .0  Paris  in  the  year  1796  in  pursuance  of  the 
decree  of  Bonaparte  as  General-in-Chief  of  the  Army  of 
nf  -jo  Florcal  An  IV.  (May  19,  1796),  providing 


A  RECORD  OF  THE  MANUSCRIPTS  33 

for  the  appointment  of  an  agent  who  should  select  such 
pictures  and  other  works  of  art  as  might  be  worthy  of 
transmission  to  France.  The  Codice  Adantico  was  in 
the  Bibliotheque  Nationale  at  Paris  in  August  1796. 
The  other  twelve  volumes  of  the  manuscripts  were 
deposited  in  the  Institut  de  France.  In  1 8 1 5  the  Austrian 
Ambassador,  as  representing  Lombardy,  made  application 
for  the  return  of  all  the  Leonardo  manuscripts.  The 
request  was  complied  with  as  regards  the  Codice 
Atlantico,  which  was  then  restored  to  the  Ambrosian 
Library  at  Milan,  but  the  twelve  volumes  in  the  library 
of  the  Institut  de  France  were  apparently  overlooked, 
and  there  they  have  since  remained. 

On  their  arrival  in  France  the  manuscripts  were 
described  by  J.  B.  Venturi,  who  then  marked  them  with 
the  lettering  whereby  they  have  subsequently  been  dis- 
tinguished. He  gave  their  total  number  as  fourteen, 
because  MS.  B  contained  an  appendix  of  eighteen  pages 
which  could  be  separated  and  considered  as  the  four- 
teenth volume. 

This  manuscript  is  identical  with  No.  3  in  the  Arconati 
donation,  which  is  described  as  having  at  the  end  a  small 
*  volumetto  *  of  eighteen  pages  containing  various  mathe- 
matical figures  and  drawings  of  birds.  This  *  volumetto ' 
seems  in  fact  to  have  been  treated  somewhat  as  Venturi 
suggests  by  Count  Guglielmo  Libri,  who  frequently  had 
access  to  the  manuscripts  in  the  Institut  de  Fhuice  in  the 
early  part  of  last  century,  and  who  apparently  abstracted 
it  at  some  time  previous  to  1848,  at  which  date  its  loss 
was  discovered.  In  1868  it  was  sold  by  Libri  to  Count 
Giacomo  Manzoni  of  Lugo,  and  in  1892  it  was  acquired 


34  A  RECORD  OF  THE  MANUSCRIPTS 

from  Count  Manxoni's  heirs  by  M.  Sabachnikoff,  by 
whom  it  was  published  in  the  following  year  as  //  Coaice 
sul  Vok  degll  Uccetti  (edit  Piumati  and  Sabachnikoff, 
Paris,  1893). 

Two  other  manuscripts  by  Leonardo  of  sixty-eight 
and  twenty-six  pages  respectively,  now  in  the  Biblio- 
thfeque  Nationale  (Nos.  2038  and  2037),  must  have 
originally  formed  part  of  the  manuscripts  A  and  B  of  the 
Institute.  They  tally  both  in  the  dimensions  of  the  pages 
and  in  the  subjects  of  which  they  treat,  and  their  total 
numbers  added  to  those  of  Manuscripts  A  and  B  respec- 
tively do  not  amount  to  quite  the  full  numbers  of  the 
leaves  which  these  two  manuscripts  possessed  in  1636, 
as  described  in  the  list  of  tl  *  Arconati  donation* 
The  two  manuscripts  in  the  Bibliothique  Nationale 
were  formerly  in  the  collection  of  the  late  Earl  of 
Ashburnham,  who  purchased  them  in  1875  from  Count 
Libri,  from  whom,  as  we  have  seen,  Count  Manzoni  had 
purchased  the  little  volume  *on  the  Flight  of  Birds/ 
The  mutilation  of  Manuscripts  A  and  B  of  the  Institute 
and  the  removal  of  the  *  volumetto  *  was  first  discovered 
in  the  year  1848.  It  is  impossible  to  avoid  the  inference 
that  each  was  the  work  of  Count  Libri.  The  two 
manuscripts  of  the  Bibliotheque  Nationale  have  been 
included  in  the  edition  of  the  manuscripts  of  the  Institute 
published  in  facsimile,  with  a  transcript  and  French 
translation  by  M.  Ravaisson-Mollien,  in  six  volumes 
(Paris,  1880-1891). 

The  Codice  Atlantico  has  also  now  been  published  in 
facsimile,  with  a  transcript,  under  the  direction  of  the 
Accademia  dci  Lincei,  at  Rome  (1894- 1904);  and  the 


A  RECORD  OF  THE  MANUSCRIPTS  35 

manuscript  in  the  possession  of  Prince  Trivulzio,  which 
was  formerly  as  we  have  seen  in  the  Ambrosian  Library 
as  one  of  the  Arconati  bequest,  has  been  published  in 
facsimile  with  a  transcript  by  Signer  Beltrami  (Milan, 
1892). 

We  may  now  consider  the  Arconati  bequest  from 
another  standpoint.  The  count's  munificence  was  com- 
memorated in  the  following  inscription,  which  was  set  in 
marble  on  the  wall  of  the  staircase  of  the  Ambrosian 
Library  : 

Leonard!  .  Vincii 
manu  .  et  *  ingenio  .  celeberrimi 
lucubrationum  .  volumina .  XII 

babes  .  o  .  civis 

Galeaz  .  Arconatus 

inter  .  optimates  .  tuos 

bonarum  .  artium  .  cultor  .  optimus 

repudiatis  .  regio  .  animo 
quos  .  angliae  .  rex  .  pro  .  uno  .  tantum  .  ofFerebat 

aureis  .  ter  .  mille  .  hispanicis 

ne  .  tibi  .  tanti .  viri .  deesset  .  ornamentum 

bibliothecae  .  ambrosianae  .  consecravit 

ne .  tanti .  largitoris .  deesset .  memoria 

quern  *  sanguis  .  quern  .  mores 

Magno .  Federico , fimdatori 

adstringunt 
bibliothecae  .  conservatores 

posuere 
anno  MDCXXXVII 

*The  glorious  (boasting)  inscription* — so  described 
in  the  Memoirs  of  John  Evelyn — has  naturally  attracted 
the  attention  of  English  travellers.  Evelyn  records  his 
failure  to  obtain  a  sight  of  the  manuscripts  when  he 
visited  Milan  in  1646,  owing  to  the  keeper  of  them 


36  A  RECORD  OF  THE  MANUSCRIPTS 

being  away  and  having  taken  the  keys,  but  states  that 
he  had  been  informed  by  the  Lord  Marshal,  the  Earl 
of  Arundel,  that  all  of  them  were  small  except  one 
book,  a  huge  folio  containing  four  hundred  leaves  *  full 
of  scratches  of  Indians/  and  *  whereas/  he  says,  e  the  in- 
scription pretends  that  our  King  Charles  had  offered 
£1000  for  them,  my  lord  himself  told  me  that  it  was 
he  who  treated  with  Galeazzo  for  himselfe  in  the  name 
and  by  the  permission  of  the  king,  and  that  the  Duke  of 
Feria,  who  was  then  Governor,  should  make  the  bar- 
gain :  but  my  lord  having  seen  them  since  did  not  think 
them  of  so  much  worth/  The  inscription,  however, 
does  not  mention  the  name  of  the  king.  Addison,  in 
his  *  Remarks  on  Several  Parts  of  Italy/  in  describing  his 
visit  to  Milan  in  1701,  mentions  the  Ambrosian  Library 
as  containing  c  a  manuscript  of  Leonardus  Vincius,  wich 
King  James  i.  could  not  procure,  tho'  he  profer'd  for  it 
three  thousand  Spanish  pistoles';  and  the  monarch  in 
question  is  also  stated  to  have  been  James  r.  in  the 
fuller  record  of  the  Arconati  donation.  The  Duke  of 
Feria  was  Governor  of  Milan  from  1610  to  1633, 
during  a  part  of  the  reign  of  both  monarchs. 

Apparently,  however,  the  manuscripts  only  passed 
into  the  possession  of  Count  Arconati  in  1625,  the 
year  of  the  death  of  James  i.,  and  this  renders  it  more 
probable  that  the  monarch  referred  to  was  Charles  r. 
But  the  question  of  under  which  king  has  relatively 
little  import,  and  with  regard  to  the  inscription,  it  may 
perhaps  be  well  to  recall  the  dictum  of  Dr,  Johnson,  *  in 
lapidary  inscriptions  a  man  is  not  upon  oath/  The  only 


A  RECORD  OF  THE  MANUSCRIPTS  37 

instance  is  that  the  manuscripts  by  Leonardo  now  in  the 
Royal  Collection  at  Windsor  did  not-  form  part  of  the 
Arconati  Collection.  This  is  also  confirmed  by  the 
testimony  of  Lord  Arundel,  as  recounted  by  Evelyn. 
That  some  of  the  Leonardo  manuscripts  at  Windsor 
were  once  in  the  possession  of  Lord  Arundel  is  estab- 
lished by  the  fact  of  the  existence  of  an  engraving  of 
one  of  the  drawings  by  Hollar,  whom  Lord  Arundel 
brought  from  Prague  and  established  in  London,  in- 
scribed *  Leonardus  da  Vinci  sic  olim  delineavit.  W. 
Hollar  fecit  ex  collectione  Arundeliana.'  That  some  of 
these  Windsor  manuscripts  were  also  formerly  in  the 
Collection  of  Pompeo  Leoni  is  clearly  shown  by  the 
fact  that  one  of  the  volumes  is  inscribed  *  Disegni  di 
Leonardo  da  Vinci  Restaurati  da  Pompeo  Leoni/ 

Now  two  of  the  manuscripts  in  Pompeo  Leoni's  col- 
lection were,  as  has  been  already  stated,  purchased  in 
Madrid  after  his  death  by  Don  Juan  de  Espina  ;  and 
Mr.  Alfred  Marks, — from  whose  important  contribu- 
tions to  this  branch  of  the  subject  in  the  Athenaeum  of 
February  23  and  July  6,  1878,  many  of  the  foregoing 
facts  are  derived, — has  shown  that  for  one  at  any 
rate  of  these  volumes,  the  Earl  of  Arundel  was  in 
treaty  with  Don  Juan  de  Espina.  The  evidence  of  this 
is  to  be  found  in  a  note  by  Endymion  Porter,  of  the  date 
1629,  printed  by  Mr.  Sainsbury  in  his  Original  Unpub- 
lished Papers  illustrative  of  the  Life  of  Rubens  : — *  of  such 
things  as  my  Lord  Embassador  Sr  Francis  Cottington  is 
to  send  out  of  Spain  for  my  Lord  of  Arondell ;  and  not 
to  forget  the  booke  of  drawings  of  Leonardo  de  Vinze 
wch  is  in  Don  Juan4  de  Espinas  hands *  (p.  294).  Don 


38  A  RECORD  OF  THE  MANUSCRIPTS 

Juan  seems  for  a  time  to  have  proved  obdurate,  for  Lord 
Arundel  wrote  on  January  i9th,  1636,  to  Lord  Aston, 
who  was  then  ambassador  to  Spain,  *  I  beseech  yu  be 
mindfull  of  D.  Jhon.  de  Spinas  booke,  if  his  foolish 
humour  change'  (p.  299).  There  the  record  breaks  off. 
But  as  Mr.  Marks  truly  observes,  there  can  be  little  doubt 
that  eventually  a  change  did  take  place  in  Don  Juan's 
c  foolish  humour/  At  whatever  date  this  happened,  the 
volume  passed  into  Lord  Arundel's  possession.  The 
earl  may  either  have  been  negotiating  for  himself  or  for 
the  king.  If  the  former  was  the  case,  the  book  may 
presumably  have  passed  into  the  Royal  Collection  at  any 
time  after  1646,  when  on  the  death  of  Lord  Arundel, 
his  collections  were  partially  dispersed.  If  not  acquired 
previously,  the  volume  may  have  been  bought  in  Holland 
by  an  agent  of  Charles  n. 

The  earliest  record  of  any  of  Leonardo's  manuscripts 
or  drawings  as  being  in  the  royal  possession  occurs  in 
an  inventory  found  by  Dr.  Richter  in  the  Manuscript 
Department  of  the  British  Museum,  which  states  that 
some  drawings  of  Leonardo  da  Vinci,  marked  with  a 
cross,  were  delivered  for  her  Majesty's  use  in  the  year 
1728.  , 

Dr.  Richter  also  cites  a  note  in  an  inventory  at 
Windsor  Castle  written  at  the  beginning  of  last  century, 
in  which  a  drawing  of  Leonardo's  is  referred  to  as  not 
having  been  in  the  volume  compiled  by  Pompeo  Leoni, 
but  in  one  of  the  volumes  in  the  Buoufiluolo  Collection 
bought  at  Venice.  Nothing,  apparently,  is  known  about 
the  collection  here  referred  to,  but  the  note  is  important 
as  tending  to  prove  that  the  manuscripts  by  Leonardo 


A  RECORD  OF  THE  MANUSCRIPTS  39 

now  at  Windsor,  were  not  all  acquired  at  the  same 
time,  and  did  not  all  form  part  of  Pompeo  Leoni's 
collection. 

The  volume  of  manuscript  now  in  the  British  Museum 
(Arundel  MSS.,  263)  was  certainly  once  in  the  possession 
of  Lord  Arundel.  Nothing  is  known  of  its  history 
previous  to  this,  and  whether  or  no  it  belonged  to 
Pompeo  Leoni,  or  was  acquired  by  purchase  from  Don 
Juan  de  Espina,  it  would  be  idle  to  attempt  to  con- 
jecture. Lord  Arundel  had  numerous  agents  in  various 
parts  of  Europe,  who  were-  employed  in  collecting 
antiquities  and  works  of  art.  It  may,  however,  be  noted 
that  the  greater  part  of  his  collection  of  manuscripts  vas 
acquired  by  the  earl  himself  at  Nuremberg  in  1636, 
and  had  formerly  belonged  to  Wilibald  Pirkheimer  the 
humanist,  the  friend  of  Erasmus  and  Durer.  If  any 
opportunity  presented  itself  to  him,  Pirkheimer  would 
certainly  have  possessed  himself  of  any  manuscript  of 
Leonardo's  ;  but  to  suppose  him  to  have  done  so  would 
be  to  assume  that  some  of  the  manuscripts  passed  into 
other  hands  during  Leonardo's  life-time,  and  this,  though 
by  no  means  impossible,  is  at  any  rate  improbable. 

The  only  other  manuscripts  by  Leonardo  now  known 
to  exist,  with  the  exceptions'  of  a  few  separate  sheets  of 
sketches  and  diagrams  with  explanatory  text,  are  three 
small  note-books  in  the  Forster  Library  at  South  Ken- 
sington, and  a  volume  of  seventy-two  pages  in  the 
possession  of  the  Earl  of  Leicester  at  Holkham  Hall. 
The  former  were  acquired  in  Vienna  for  a  small  sum  by 
the  first  Earl  of  Lytton  and  by  him  presented  to  Mr. 
Forster ;  the  latter,  according  to  a  note  on  the  title-page, 


40  A  RECORD  OF  THE  MANUSCRIPTS 

once  belonged  to  the  painter  Giuseppe  Ghezzi,  who  was 
living  in  Rome  at  the  beginning  of  the  eighteenth  century, 
it  having  presumably  been  acquired  by  the  first  Earl  of 
Leicester,  who  spent  some  years  in  Rome  previous  to 
1775,  anc*    there    acquired    many   art   treasures.     Its 
previous  history  is  unknown.     This  volume — a  treatise 
on  the  nature  of  water — is  in  all  probability  that  referred 
to  by  Rafaelle  du  Fresne  in  the  sketch  of  Leonardo's 
life  which  appears  in   his  edition  of  the  Trattato  ddla 
Pittura,  published  in  Paris  in  1651,  where  it  is  stated 
that  *  the  undertaking  of  the  canal  of  the  Martesana  was 
the  occasion  of  his  writing  a  book  on  the  nature,  weight, 
and  motion  of  water,  full  of  a  great  number  of  drawings 
of  various  wheels  and  engines  for  mills  to  regulate  the 
flow  of  water  and  raise  it  to  a  height.' 

Of  such  of  the  manuscripts  at  Windsor  as  treat  of 
anatomy,  two  volumes  with  facsimiles,  transcripts,  and 
translations  have  been  issued  by  Messrs.  Piumati  and 
Sabachnikoff  (Paris,  1898),  (Turin,  1901),  The  rest  of 
the  manuscripts  at  Windsor  and  the  other  manuscripts 
in  England  have  not  as  yet  been  published,  though  fac- 
similes of  those  at  Windsor  and  of  portions  of  those 
in  London  have  been  issued  in  a  series  of  volumes  by 
Rouveyre. 

As  Leonardo's  fame  as  a  writer  has  chiefly  rested  upon 
the  treatise  on  Painting,  it  may  not  be  out  of  place  here 
to  attempt  to  state  the  relation  which  this  work  bears  to 
the  original  manuscripts. 

The  treatise  was  first  published  by  Rafaelle  du  Fresne, 
in  Paris,  in  1651,  a  French  translation  by  Roland  Freard 
sieur  de  Chambrai  being  also  issued  in  the  same  year- 


A  RECORD  OF  THE  MANUSCRIPTS  4 

Du  Fresne  derived  his  text  from  two  old  copies  of 
MS.  834  in  the  Barberini  Library,  which  manuscript 
has  now  presumably  been  transferred  to  the  Vatican, 
at  the  same  time  as  the  other  contents  of  that  Library. 
One  of  these  copies  had  been  made  by  the  Cavaliere 
Cassiano  del  Pozzo,  who  had  given  it  in  1640  to  M. 
Chanteloup,  by  whom  it  was  presented  to  du  Fresne  for 
the  preparation  of  his  edition ;  the  other  was  lent  him 
for  the  same  object  by  M.  Thevenot. 

Another  edition  of  the  Treatise  was  issued  in  1 8 1 7  by 
Guglielmo  Manzi,  who  took  as  his  text  a  manuscript  in 
the  Vatican  Library  (Cod.  Vat.  (Urbinas)  1270),  which 
had  formerly  belonged  to  the  Library  of  the  Dukes  of 
Urbino.  This  manuscript  is  by  far  the  more  complete 
of  the  two,  five  out  of  the  eight  books  which  it  contains 
being  wanting  in  the  version  followed  by  du  Fresne. 
There  are,  however,  many  omissions  in  Manzi's  edition, 
and  the  only  adequate  critical  edition  of  the  Vatican 
manuscript  is  that  published  by  H.  Ludwig  (Leonardo 
da  Find:  Das  Buck  von  der  Malerei  (Bd.  xv-xviii 
of  §>uellenschriften  ftir  Kunstgeschichte,  etc.,  Edit.  R. 
Eitelberger  v.  Edelberg),  Vienna,  1882,  Stuttgart  1885). 
This  contains  the  complete  text,  together  with  a  German 
translation  and  commentary,  and  also  an  analysis  of  the 
differences  which  exist  between  the  manuscripts  in  the 
Vatican  and  Leonardo's  own  manuscripts. 

The  Vatican  manuscript  probably  dates  from  the 
beginning  of  the  sixteenth  century.  It  has  been  ascribed 
to  some  immediate  pupil  of  Leonardo's,  for  choice  either 
Francesco  Melzi  or  Salai,,  but  there  is  no  evidence  which 
can  be  held  to  establish  this  view.  Its  close  connection 


42  A  RECORD  OF  THE  MANUSCRIPTS 

with  Leonardo  is  however  indisputable.  Whether  this 
be  the  original  form  or  no,  the  compilation  was  un- 
doubtedly made  previous  to  the  dispersal  of  the  manu- 
scripts. About  a  quarter  of  the  whole  number  of 
paragraphs  (two  hundred  and  twenty-five  out  of  nine 
hundred  and  forty-four)  are  identical  with  passages  in 
the  extant  manuscripts.  Many  others,  which  are  not 
now  to  be  found  in  any  form  in  the  manuscripts,  yet 
carry  their  lineage  incontestably,  and  would  afford  a 
sufficient  proof,  were  this  lacking  in  the  chequered  history 
of  the  various  volumes,  that  some  of  the  manuscripts 
have  now  perished  ;  that,  as  with  Leonardo  as  painter  so 
also  as  writer,  time  has  spared  only  the  fragments  of  his 
work.  The  compiler  of  the  Treatise  on  Painting  had 
access  to  manuscripts,  and  probably  also  to  sources  of 
information  as  to  the  artist's  intentions,  of  which  we  have 
no  record.  He  presumably  followed  what  he  conceived 
to  be  the  scheme  of  the  artist's  work.  Nevertheless, 
Leonardo  cannot  be  adjudged  directly  or  even  indirectly 
responsible  for  the  arrangement  and  divisions  of  this 
treatise,  and  it  is  somewhat  difficult  to  credit  him  with 
the  whole  of  the  contents.  Certain  of  the  passages  read 
rather  as  repetitions  by  a  pupil  of  a  theme  expounded  by 
the  master. 

Did  Leonardo  himself  ever  give  his  work  definite 
shape  ?  Did  he  write  a  treatise  on  painting  or  only  parts 
of  one  ?  In  Fra  Luca  PaciolPs  dedication  to  Ludovic 
Sforza  of  the  De  Divina  Proportion,  dated  February  9, 
1498,  he  speaks  of  Leonardo  as  having  finished  *il  Libro 
de  Pictura  et  movimenti  humani,'  and  Dr,  Ludwig,  who 
apparently  accepts  this  statement,  puts  forward  the 


A  RECORD  OF  THE  MANUSCRIPTS  43 

supposition  that  the  treatise  was  in  the  possession  of 
Ludovic  and  probably  became  lost  at  the  time  of  the 
French  invasion  of  Milan. 

On  this  same  occasion,  according  to  both  Vasari  and 
Lomazzo,  there  also  perished  a  treatise  by  Leonardo  on 
the  anatomy  of  the  horse,  which  he  had  written* in  the 
course  of  his  studies  for  the  Sforza  statue. 

Vasari,  as  we  have  seen,  mentions  some  writings  by 
Leonardo  c  which  treat  of  painting  and  of  the  methods  of 
drawing  and  colouring '  as  being  then  in  the  possession 
of  a  Milanese  painter,  who  had  recently  been  to  see  him 
in  Florence  to  discuss  their  publication,  and  had  taken 
them  to  Rome  in  order  to  carry  his  intention  into  effect, 
though  with  what  result  Vasari  could  not  say.  These 
writings  are  stated  to  be  c  in  characters  written  with  the 
left  hand,  backwards/  and  therefore  they  cannot  possibly 
be  identical  either  with  the  Barberini  or  the  Vatican 
manuscript  Seeing  that  Vasari  wrote  during  Melzi's 
lifetime,  it  is  reasonable  to  infer  that  this  manuscript  had 
at  an  early  date  become  separated  from  the  others  and 
therefore  did  not  form  part  of  the  general  mass  of  the 
manuscripts  which  passed  into  Melzi's  possession  at 
Leonardos  death,  since  Vasari  states  that  he  kept  these 
as  though  they  were  relics.  As  to  whether  this  manu- 
script was  identical  with  the  work  to  which  Fra  Luca 
Pacioli  referred,  there  is  no  sufficient  evidence  on  which 
to  form  an  opinion.  Moreover,  the  Prate's  testimony 
must  not  be  interpreted  too  literally.  The  words  of  the 
dedication  of  the  De  Divina  Proportions  would  naturally 
also  suggest  that  the  statue  of  Francesco  Sforza  was 
actually  cast  in  bronze,  but  the  general  weight  of  evidence. 


44  A  RECORD  OF  THE  MANUSCRIPTS 

including  that  of  Leonardo's  own  letters,  forbids  any 
such  supposition.  So,  in  like  manner,  it  may  perhaps 
have  been  that  in  the  case  of  the  treatise  on  Painting  he 
may  have  spoken  of  the  rough  drafts  and  fragments  as 
though  they  were  the  completed  work. 

The  work  itself  grew  continually  in  the  mind  of  the 
author.  It  was  moulded  and  recast  times  without  number 
as  his  purpose  changed  and  expanded  in  his  progress 
along  each  new  avenue  of  study  that  revealed  afresh  the 
kinship  of  art  and  nature.  It  is  certain  that  he  never 
wrote  c  finis.'  It  is  at  any  rate  possible  that  he  never 
halted  in  investigation  for  so  long  time  as  would  be 
necessary  to  arrange  and  classify  what  he  had  written — 
that  he  left  all  this  to  a  more  convenient  season.  Genius, 
we  should  remember,  is  not  apt  to  be  synthetic. 


NOTE. — In  the  references  to  the  manuscripts  which  follow 
the  following  abbreviations  occur  : — 

C.  A.  SB  Codice  Adantico. 

Ay  B,  etc.,  to  7,  and  Ky  L,  Af=MSS.  Ay  5,  etc.,  to  /,  and 
Ky  L)  M  of  the  Library  of  the  Institut  de  France. 

MSS.  2037  and  2038  Bib.  A7W.  =  Nos.  2037  and  2038, 
Italian  MSS.  Bibliotheque  Nationale. 

5Tr,  =  Codice  Trivukiano. 

jB.  M,  263  Ar.~  British  Museum,  Arundel  MSS.  No,  263. 

S.    K.   M,   i-fiisa  South   Kensington    Museum   (Forster 
Bequest)  MSS.  I-IIL 

Leic.  SB  MS.  in  possession  of  Earl  of  Leicester. 
£.  =  Richter,  J.  P.,  Literary  Works  of  L,  da  V- 


PROEM 

SEEING  that  I  cannot  choose  any  subject  of  great 
utility  or  pleasure,  because  my  predecessors  have  already 
taken  as  their  own  all  useful  and  necessary  themes, 
I  will  do  like  one  who,  because  of  his  poverty,  is 
the  last  to  arrive  at  the  fair,  and  not  being  able  other- 
wise to  provide  himself,  chooses  all  the  things  which 
others  have  already  looked  over  and  not  taken,  but 
refused  as  being  of  little  value.  With  these  despised 
and  rejected  wares — the  leavings  of  many  buyers — 
I  will  load  my  modest  pack,  and  therewith  take  my 
course,  distributing,  not  indeed  amid  the  great  cities, 
but  among  the  mean  hamlets,  and  taking  such  reward 

as  befits  the  things  1  offer. 

(C,  A.  119  v.  a.) 

•*, 

I  am  fully  aware  that  the  fact  of  my  not  being 
a  man  of  letters  may  cause  certain  arrogant  persons 
to  think  that  they  may  with  reason  censure  me, 
alleging  that  I  am  a  man  ignorant  of  book-learning. 
Foolish  folk !  Do  they  not  know  that  I  might  retort 
by  saying,  as  did  Marius  to  the  Roman  Patricians. 
*  They  who  themselves  go  about  adorned  in  the  labour 
of  others  will  not  permit  me  my  own.'  They  will 
say  that  because  of  my  lack  of  book-learning,  I 
cannot  properly  express  what  I  desire  to  treat  of. 


45 


46  PROEM 

Do  they  not  know  that  my  subjects  require  for  their 
exposition  experience  rather  than  the  words  of  others  ? 
And  since  experience  has  been  the  mistress  of  who- 
ever has  written  well,  I  take  her  as  my  mistress,  and 

to  her  in  all  points  make  my  appeal. 

(C.  A.  119  &.  a.) 


BOOK    I 

LIFE 

THOU,  O  God,  dost  sell  unto  us  all  good  things  at  the 
price  of  labour.  (Windsor  MSS.  R  1133.) 

I  obey  thee,  O  Lord,  first  because  of  the  love  which 
I  ought  reasonably  to  bear  thee  ;  secondly,  because  thou 
knowest  how  to  shorten  or  prolong  the  lives  of  men. 

(S.  K.  M.  in.  29  r.) 

Our  body  is  subject  to  heaven,  and  heaven  is  subject 
to  the  spirit  (Tr.  Tav.  65  a.) 

The  soul  desires  to  dwell  in  the  body  because  without 
the  members  of  that  body  it  can  neither  act  nor  feel. 

(C.  A.  59  r.  t.) 

How  admirable  thy  justice,  O  thou  first  mover !  Thou 
hast  not  willed  that  any  power  should  lack  the  processes 
or  qualities  necessary  for  its  results.  (^  24  r.) 

Instrumental  or  mechanical  science  is  the  noblest  and 
above  all  others  the  most  useful,  seeing  that  by  means  of 
it  all  animated  bodies  which  have  movement  perform  all 
their  actions ;  and  the  origin  of  these  movements  is  at 
the  centre  of  their  gravity,  which  is  placed  in  the  middle 
with  unequal  weights  at  the  sides  of  it,  and  it  has 


47 


48       OF  THE  SOUL  AND  THE  BODY 

scarcity  or  abundance  of  muscles  and  also  the  action  of  a 
lever  and  counter  levfer.  (Sulvolo  degli  Uccelli,  3  r.) 

The  soul  can  never  be  infected  by  the  corruption  of 
the  body,  but  acts  in  the  body  like  the  wind  which  causes 
the  sound  of  the  organ,  wherein  if  one  of  the  pipes  is 
spoiled,  the  wind  cannot  produce  a  good  result  in  that 
pipe.  (Tr.  Tav.  71  a.) 

Whoever  would  see  in  what  state  the  soul  dwells 
within  the  body>  let  him  mark  how  this  body  uses  its 
daily  habitation,  for  if  this  be  confused  and  without 
order,  then  will  the  body  be  kept  in  disorder  and  con- 
fusion by  the  soul.  (C.  A.  76  /-.  a.) 

Music  has  two  ills,  the  one  mortal,  the  other  wasting  ; 
the  mortal  is  ever  allied  with  the  instant  which  follows 
that  of  the  music's  utterance,  the  wasting  ill  lies  in  its 
repetition,  making  it  seem  contemptible  and  mean. 

(C.  A.  382  v.  a.) 

The  imitation  of  the  antique  is  more  to  be  praised 
than  that  of  the  modern.  (C.  A.  147  r.  a.) 

In  life  beauty  perishes,  not  in  art.        ($.  K.  M.  m.  72  r.) 

The  painter  contends  with  and  rivals  nature. 

(S.  K.  M.  Hi.  44  v.) 

The  senses  are  of  the  earth,  the  reason  stands  apart 
from  them  in  contemplation.  (Tr.  Tav.  60  a.) 


Where  there  is  most  power  of  feeling,  there  of  martyrs 
is  the  greatest  martyr.  (Tr.  Tav.  35  *.) 


OF  THE  OPPORTUNITY  OF  LIFE  49 

Tears  come  from  the  heart  not  from  the  brain. 

(Windsor  MSS.  R  815.) 

Why  does  the  eye  see  a  thing  more  clearly  in  dreams 
than  the  imagination  when  awake  ? 

(B.  M.  263,  Ar.  278  v.) 

What  is  it  that  is  much  desired  by  men,  but  which 
they  know  not  while  possessing  ?  It  is  sleep. 

(/  56  [8]  r.) 

The  thoughts  turn  towards  hope.  (C.  A.  68  v.  b.) 

Pray  hold  me  not  in  scorn  !  I  am  not  poor  !  Poor 
rather  is  the  man  who  desires  many  things.  Where  shall 
I  take  my  place  ?  Where  in  a  little  time  from  hence- 
forth you  shall  know.  Do  you  answer  for  yourself! 
From  henceforth  in  a  little  time.  .  . 

(C.  A.  71  r,  a.) 

Vows  begin  when  hope  dies.  (H  48  v.) 

If  liberty  is  dear  to  you  may  you  never  discover  that 
my  face  is  love's  prison.  (S.  K.  M.  /«.  10  v.) 

The  lover  is  drawn  by  the  thing  loved,  as  the  sense 
is  by  that  which  it  perceives,  and  it  unites  with 
it,  and  they  become  one  and  the  same  thing.  The 
work  is  the  first  thing  born  of  the  union  ;  if  the  thing 
that  is  loved  be  base,  the  lover  becomes  base.  When  the 
thing  taken  into  union  is  in  harmony  with  that  which 
receives  it,  there  follow  rejoicing  and  pleasure  and  satis- 
faction. When  the  lover  is  united  to  that  which  is  loved 
it  finds  rest  there :  when  the  burden  is  laid  down  there 

it  finds  rest.  (Tr.  Tav.  9  a.) 

D 


So        OF  THE  SPIRIT'S  LONGING  TO  RETURN 

Behold  now  the  hope  and  desire  to  go  back  to  our 
own  country,  and  to  return  to  our  former  state,  how 
like  it  is  to  the  moth  with  the  light !  And  the  man  who 
with  perpetual  longing  ever  looks  forward  with  joy  to 
each  new  spring  and  each  new  summer,  and  to  the  new 
months  and  the  new  years,  dee'ming  that  the  things  he 
longs  for  are  too  slow  in  coming,  does  not  perceive  that 
he  is  longing  for  his  own  destruction.  But  this  longing 
is  the  quintessence  and  spirit  of  the  eJements,  which, 
finding  itself  imprisoned  within  the  life  of  the  human 
body,1  desires  continually  to  return  to  its  source.  And  I 
would  have  you  to  know  that  this  very  same  longing  is 
that  quintessence  inherent  in  nature,  and  that  man  is  a 
type  of  the  world.  (B.  M.  263,  Ar.  156  «/.) 

In  youth  acquire  that  which  may  requite  you  for  the 
deprivations  of  old  age ;  and  if  you  are  mindful  that  old 
age  has  wisdom  for  its  food,  you  will  so  exert  yourself  in 
youth,  that  your  old  age  will  not  lack  sustenance. 

(C.  A.  112  r.  a.} 

We  have  no  lack  of  system  or  device  to  measure  and 
to  parcel  out  these  poor  days  of  ours ;  wherein  it  should 
be  our  pleasure  that  they  be  not  squandered  or  suffered 
to  pass  away  in  vain,  and  without  meed  of  honour, 
leaving  no  record  of  themselves  in  the  minds  of  men  ; 
to  the  end  that  this  our  poor  course  may  not  be  sped  in 
vain.  "  (c.  A.  12  v.  a.) 

O  thou  that  sleepest,  what  is  sleep?  Sleep  is  an 
image  of  death.  Oh,  why  not  let  your  work  be  such  that 

*dcllo  vmano  chorpo.* 


PLATE 


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„"*>  *«W*1  f1!  !•*•*    * 

l*j£»   •*"*»       4;    » 
<A*»rf<v  »   (*  -*J   • 


m* 

(Whiff  -f 


^1    •-tvpf/'1  ft!  At&yf  v»*fnui  f*-  *»    ^  < 

.,?:*.'        «  «'i.         '   »«    Av-t 


OM       J>»W-< 
V          N 


STUDY  OF  A  SKULL  IN  SECTION 

TO    SHOW     THE    BONY    CAVITIES   OF    THE    FACE 


Face 


OF  LIFE  AND  DEATH  51 

after  death  you  become  an  image  of  immortality ;  as  in 
life  you  become  when  sleeping  like  unto  the  hapless 
dead.  (c.  A.  76  *.  a.) 

Every  evil  leaves  a  sorrow  in  the  memory  except  the 
supreme  evil,  death,  and  this  destroys  memory  itself 
together  with  life.  (H  33  v.) 

As  a  well-spent  day  brings  happy  sleep,  so  life  well 
used  brings  happy  death.  (7>.  Tav.  28  a.) 

While  I  thought  that  I  was  learning  how  to  live,  I 
have  been  learning  how  to  die.  (c,  A.  252  r>  a.) 

The  age  as  it  flies  glides  secretly  and  deceives  one  and 
another  ;  nothing  is  more  fleeting  than  the  years,  but  he 
who  sows  virtue  reaps  honour.  (c.  A.  71  v.  a.) 

Iron  rusts  from  disuse ;  stagnant  water  loses  its  purity 
and  in  cold  weather  becomes  frozen ;  even  so  does  in- 
action sap  the  vigour  of  the  mind.  (c.  A.  289  v.  e.) 

Life  well  spent  is  long.  (2>.  Tat/.  63  a.) 

In  rivers,  the  water  that  you  touch  is  the  last  of  what 
has  passed  and  the  first  of  that  which  comes :  so  with 
time  present.  (Tr.  Tav.  63  a.) 

Wrongfully  do  men  lament  the  flight  of  time,  accusing 
it  of  being  too  swift,  and  not  perceiving  that  its  period 
is  yet  sufficient ;  but  good  memory  wherewith  nature 
has  endowed  us  causes  everything  long  past  to  seem 
present-  (C.  A.  76  r.  a.) 


52  OF  TIME  THE  DESTROYER 

Our  judgment  does  not  reckon  in  their  exact  and 
proper  order  things  which  have  come  to  pass  at  different 
periods  of  time  ;  for  many  things  which  happened  many 
years  ago  will  seem  nearly  related  to  the  present,  and 
many  things  that  are  recent  will  seem  ancient,  extending 
back  to  the  far-off  period  of  our  youth.  And  so  it  is 
with  the  eye,  with  regard  to  distant  things,  which  when 
illumined  by  the  sun  seem  near  to  the  eye,  while  many 
things  which  are  near  seem  far  off.  (c.  A,  29  #.  a.) 

O  Time,  thou  that  consumest  all  things !  O  envious 
age,  thou  destroyest  all  things  and  devourest  all  things 
with  the  hard  teeth  of  the  years,  little  by  little,  in  slow 
death  !  Helen,  when  she  looked  in  her  mirror  and  saw 
the  withered  wrinkles  which  old  age  had  made  in  her 
face,  wept,  and  wondered  to  herself  why  ever  she  had 
twice  been  carried  away. 

O  Time,  thou  that  consumest  all  things  !     O  envious 

age,  whereby  all  things  are  consumed ! 

(C.  A.  71  r.a.) 

Just  as  eating  contrary  to  the  inclination  is  injurious 
to  the  health,  so  study  without  desire  spoils  the  memory, 
and  it  retains  nothing  that  it  takes  in* 

(MS.  2038,  &tt.  Nat,  34  r.) 

Wood  feeds  the  fire  that  consumes  it. 

(MS.  2038,  Sib.  Nat.  34  v.) 

Call  not  that  riches  which  may  be  lost ;  virtue  is  our 
true  wealth,  and  the  true  reward  of  its  possessor*  It 
cannot  be  lost ;  it  will  not  abandon  us  unless  life  itself 
first  leaves  us*  As  for  property  and  material  wealth, 


OF  THE  PURSUIT  OF  KNOWLEDGE  53 

these  you  should  ever  hold  in  fear  ;  full  often  they  leave 
their  possessor  in  ignominy  mocked  at  for  having  lost 
possession  of  them.  (MS.  2038,  Bib.  Nat.  34  ?.) 

HOW   IN    ALL   TRAVELS    ONE    MAY    LEARN 

This  benign  nature  so  provides  that  all  over  the  world 

you  find  something  to  imitate. 

(MS.  2038,  Bib.  Nat.  31  r.) 

The   supreme  misfortune  is  when  theory  outstrips 
performance.  (MS.  2038,  Bib.  #*/.  33  *.) 


The  natural  desire  of  good  men  is  knowledge. 

(C.  A.  119  v.  a.) 

The  knowledge  of  past  time  and  of  the  position  of  the 
earth  is  the  adornment  and  the  food  of  human  minds. 

(C.  A.  373  v.  a.) 

Nothing  can  be  written  as  the  result  of  new  researches. 

(Tr.  Tav.  52  a.) 

All  our  knowledge  originates  in  opinions. 

(fir.  f>*  41  a.) 


Shun  those  studies  in  which  the  work  that  results 
dies  with  the  worker.  ($.  jr.  Af.  »/.  55  r.) 

The  idea  or  the  faculty  of  imagination  is  both  rudder 
and  bridle  to  the  senses,  inasmuch  as  the  thing  imagined 
moves  the  sense. 

Pre-imagining  is  the  imagining  of  things  that  are 
to  be. 

Post-imagining  is  the  imagining  of  things  that  are 
past.  (Windsor  MSS.  Del?  Anat.  Fogli  B  2  r.) 


54  OF  THE  INTELLECTUAL  LIFE 

Whoever  in  discussion  adduces  authority  uses  not 
intellect  but  rather  memory,  (C.  A.  76  r.  a.) 

Good  literature  proceeds  from  men  of  natural  probity, 
and  since  one  ought  rather  to  praise  the  inception  than 
the  result,  you  should  give  greater  praise  to  a  man  of 
probity  unskilled  in  letters  than  to  one  skilled  in  letters 
but  devoid  of  probity.  (C.  A.  76  r.  a.) 

Poor  is  the  pupil  who  does  not  surpass  his  master. 

(S.  K.  M.  Hi.  66  v.) 

Science  is  the  captain,  practice  the  soldiers. 

(/i3o[82]r.) 

To  devise  is  the  work  of  the  master,  to  execute  the 
act  of  the  servant,  (C.  A.  109  v*  a.) 

Every  part  is  disposed  to  unite  with  the  whole,  that  it 
may  thereby  escape  from  its  own  incompleteness. 

(C.  A.  59  r.  l) 

There  is  no  certainty  where  one  can  neither  apply 
any  of  the  mathematical  sciences  nor  any  of  those  which 
are  based  upon  the  mathematical  sciences. 

(G  96  v.) 

You  who  speculate  on  the  nature  of  things,  I  praise 
you  not  for  knowing  the  processes  which  nature 
ordinarily  effects  of  herself,  but  rejoice  if  so  be  that  you 
know  the  issue  of  such  things  as  your  mind  conceives. 

(G47r.) 

There  is  no  result  in  nature  without  a  cause  ;  under- 
stand the  cause  and  you  will  have  no  need  of  the 
experiment.  (C.  A.  147  *.  a.) 


OF  THE  LAWS  OF  NATURE  55 

The  lying  interpreters  of  nature  assert  that  mercury- 
is  a  common  factor  in  all  the  metals ;  they  forget  that 
nature  varies  its  factors  according  to  the  variety  of  the 
things  which  it  desires  to  produce  in  the  world. 

(C.  A.  76  v,  a.) 

Nature  never  breaks  her  own  law.  (E  43  v.) 

Nature  is  constrained  by  the  order  of  her  own  law 
which  lives  and  works  within  her,  (C  23  v.) 

Necessity  is  the  mistress  and  guide  of  nature.  Ne- 
cessity is  the  theme  and  artificer  of  nature,  the  bridle 
and  the  eternal  law.  (S.  K.  M.  in.  43  v.) 

Weight,  pressure,  and  accidental  movement  together 
with  resistance  are  the  four  accidental  powers  in  which 
all  the  visible  works  of  mortals  have  their  existence  and 
their  end.  (S.  K.  M.  U.  116  v.) 

Every  weight  tends  to  fall  towards  the  centre  by  the 
shortest  way.  (C  28  v.) 

All  the  elements  when  removed  from  their  natural 
place  desire  to  return  there,  especially  fire,  water,  and 
earth.  (C  26  v.) 

O  mathematicians,  throw  light  on  this  error.  The 
spirit  has  not  voice,  for  where  there  is  voice  there  is 
a  body,  and  where  there  is  a  body  there  is  occupation  of 
space  which  prevents  the  eye  from  seeing  things  situated 
beyond  this  space  ;  consequently  this  body  of  itself  fills 
the  whole  surrounding  air,  that  is  by  its  images. 

(C.  A.  190  v.  6.) 


S6  OF  IMAGES  AND  MOVEMENTS 

HOW  THE  MOVEMENTS  OF  THE  EYE,  THE  RAY  OF  THE  SUN 
AND  THE  MIND  ARE  THE  SWIFTEST  THAT  CAN  BE 

The  sun  so  soon  as  ever  it  appears  in  the  east  instantly 
proceeds  with  its  rays  to  the  west ;  and  these  are  made 
up  of  three  incorporeal  forces,  namely  radiance,  heat,  and 
the  image  of  the  shape  which  produces  these. 

The  eye  so  soon  as  ever  it  is  opened  beholds  all  the 
stars  of  our  hemisphere. 

The  mind  passes  in  an  instant  from  the  east  to  the 
west ;  and  all  the  great  incorporeal  things  resemble  these 
very  closely  in  their  speed.  (C.  A.  204  v.  a.) 

A    PROOF   OF    HOW   OBJECTS    COME    TO   THE   EYE 

After  looking  at  the  sun  or  other  luminous  object  and 
then  closing  the  eyes  you  will  continue  to  see  it  as 
before  within  the  eye  for  a  considerable  space  of  time, 
This  is  a  token  that  the  images  enter  within  the  eye. 

(C.  A.  204  r.  a.) 

Just  as  a  stone  flung  into  the  water  becomes  the  centre 
and  cause  of  various  circles,  and  a  sound  produced  in 
the  air  spreads  itself  out  in  circles,  so  each  body  situated 
La  the  luminous  air  is  spread  out  circle-wise  and  fills 
the  surrounding  parts  with  infinite  images  of  itself  and 
is  present  all  in  the  whole  and  all  in  every  part, 

<-*9*-> 

Experience  is  never  at  fault ;  it  is  only  your  judgment 
that  is  in  error  in  promising  itself  such  results  from  ex- 
perience as  are  not  caused  by  our  experiments.  For 
having  given  a  beginning,  what  follows  from  it  must 
necessarily  be  a  natural  development  of  such  a  beginning, 


OF  EXPERIENCE  57 

unless  it  has  been  subject  to  a  contrary  influence,  while, 
if  it  is  affected  by  any  contrary  influence,  the  result  which 
ought  to  follow  from  the  aforesaid  beginning  will  be 
found  to  partake  of  this  contrary  influence  in  a  greater 
or  less  degree  in  proportion  as  the  said  influence  is 
more  or  less  powerful  than  the  aforesaid  beginning. 

(C.  A.  154  r.  a.) 

Experience  is  not  at  fault ;  it  is'  only  our  judgment 
that  is  in  error  in  promising  itself  from  experience  things 
which  are  not  within  her  power. 

Wrongly  do  men  cry  out  against  experience  and  with 
bitter  reproaches  accuse  her  of  deceitfulness.  Let  ex- 
perience alone,  and  rather  turn  your  complaints  against 
your  own  ignorance,  which  causes  you  to  be  so  carried 
away  by  your  vain  and  insensate  desires  as  to  expect  from 
experience  things  which  are  not  within  her  power  ! 

Wrongly  do  men  cry  out  against  innocent  experience, 
accusing  her  often  of  deceit  and  lying  demonstrations ! 

(C.  A.  154  v.  a.) 

Nature  is  full  of  infinite  causes  which  were  never  set 
forth  in  experience.  (7  18  r.) 

I  reveal  to  men  the  origin  of  the  first,  or  perhaps 
the  second,  cause  of  their  existence, 

(Windsor  MSS.  R  841.) 

Falsehood  is  so  utterly  vile  that  though  it  should 
praise  the  great  works  of  God  it  offends  against  His 
divinity ;  truth  is  of  such  excellence  that  if  it  praise  the 
meanest  things  they  become  ennobled. 

Without  doubt  truth  stands  to  falsehood  in  the  relation 


58  OF  TRUTH  AND  FALSEHOOD 

of  light  to  darkness,  and  truth  is  in  itself  of  such  ex- 
cellence that  even  when  it  treats  of  humble  and  lowly 
matters  it  yet  immeasurably  outweighs  the  sophistries 
and  falsehoods  which  are  spread  out  over  great  and 
high-sounding  discourses;  for  though  we  have  set  up 
falsehood  as  a  fifth  element  in  our  mental  state  it  yet 
remains  that  the  truth  of  things  is  the  chief  food  of 
all  finer  intellects — though  not  indeed  of  wandering 
wits. 

But  you  who  live  in  dreams — the  specious  reasonings, 
the  feints  which  falla  players  might  use,  if  only  they 
treat  of  things  vast  and  uncertain,  please  you  more 
than  do  the  things  which  are  sure  and  natural  and  of 
no  such  high  pretension.  (SulVolo  degli  Vccelli,  12  r.) 

The  line  that  is  straightest  offers  most  resistance. 

(Tr.  Tav.  24  a.) 

He  who  has  most  possessions  should  have  the  greatest 
fear  of  loss.  (C.  A.  109  v.  a.) 

Supreme  happiness  will  be  the  greatest  cause  of  misery, 
and  the  perfection  of  wisdom  the  occasion  of  folly. 

(C  A.  39  *.  c.) 

As  courage  endangers  life  even  so  fear  preserves  it. 
Threats  only  serve  as  weapons  to  the  threatened. 
Who  walks  rightly  seldom  falls. 

You  do  ill  if  you  praise,  but  worse  if  you  censure 
what  you  do  not  rightly  understand.  (c.  A.  76  v.  a.) 

Who  goes  not  ever  in  fear  sustains  many  injuries  and 
often  repents.  (C.  A.  170  r.  6.) 


APHORISMS  59 

To  speak  well  of  a  worthless  man  is  like  speaking  ill 
of  a  good  man.  (s.  K.  M.  Hi.  41  *,) 

Folly  is  the  buckler  of  shame  as  importunity  is  of 
poverty.  (Tr.  Tav.  52  a.) 

Fear  springs  to  life  more  quickly  than  anything  else. 

(L  90  v.) 

As  evil  that  harms  me  not  even  so  is  good  which  does 
not  profit  me. 

Who  injures  others  regards  not  himself.  (M  4  r.) 

Truth  alone  was  the  daughter  of  time.  (M  58  v.) 

He  who  does  not  value  life  deserves  it  not.       (/  15  r.) 

Ask  counsel  of  him  who  governs  himself  well. 

Justice  requires  power,   intelligence,   and  will.      It 
resembles  the  queen  bee. 

He  who  neglects  to  punish  evil  sanctions  the  doing 
thereof. 

He  who  takes  the  snake  by  the  tail  is  afterwards 
bitten  by  it. 

He  who  digs  the  pit  upon  him  will  it  fall  in  ruin. 

(#ii8[>5r.]*.) 

He  who  thinks  little  makes  many  mistakes. 

No  counsel  is  more  trustworthy  than  that  which  is 
given  upon-  ships  that  are  in  peril. 

Let  him  expect  disaster  who  shapes  his  course  on  a 
young  man's  counsel.  (H  119  [24  #.]  r.) 


60  APHORISMS 

He  who  expects  from  experience  what  she  does  not 
possess  takes  leave  of  reason.  (C.  A.  299  r.  b.} 

Happy  is  that  estate  which  is  seen  by  the  eye  of  its 
lord. 

This  by  experience  is  proved,  that  he  who  never  puts 
his  trust  in  any  man  will  never  be  deceived. 

(C.  A.  344  r.  b.) 

The  memory  of  benefits  is  frail  as  against  ingratitude. 
Reprove  a  friend  in  secret  but  praise  him  before  others. 

He  who  walks  in  fear  of  dangers  will  not  perish  in 
consequence  thereof. 

Lie  not  about  the  past.  (H  16  v.) 

Bars  of  gold  are  refined  in  the  fire.      (//  98  [44  bis «'.]  r.) 

It  is  by  testing  that  we  discern  fine  gold. 

As  is  the  mould  so  will  be  the  cast. 

(H  100  [43  r.}  v.) 

Every  wrong  shall  be  set  right.  (#99  (.44  *•]  r*) 

Constancy.   Not  he  who  begins,  but  he  who  perseveres. 

(H  101  [42  v.]  r,) 

He  who  strips  the  wall  bare  on  him  will  it  fall. 
He  who  cuts  down  the  tree  on  him  it  takes  vengeance 
in  its  fall.  (#i  18(25  v.]r.) 

Obstacles  cannot  bend  me. 
Every  obstacle  yields  to  effort. 

He  who  fixes  his  course  by  a  star  changes  not. 

(Windsor  MSS.  R  682.) 


ALLEGORIES  61 


A    SIMILE    OF    PATIENCE 

Patience  serves  as  a  protection  against  wrongs  as  clothes 
do  against  cold.  For  if  you  put  on  more  clothes  as  the 
cold  increases  it  will  have  no  power  to  hurt  you.  So  in 
like  manner  you  must  grow  in  patience  when  you  meet 
with  great  wrongs,  and  they  will  then  be  powerless  to 
vex  your  mind.  (c.  A.  117  v.  b.) 

When  fortune  comes  seize  her  with  a  firm  hand, — in 
front,  I  counsel  you,  for  behind  she  is  bald. 

(C.  A.  76  v.  a.) 

A  simile.  A  vessel  of  unbaked  clay  when  broken  may 
be  remoulded,  but  not  *one  that  has  passed  through  the 
fire.  (Tr.  Tav.  68  a.) 

Fame  should  bt,  represented  in  the  shape  of  a  bird, 
but  with  the  whole  figure  covered  with  tongues  instead 
of  feathers.  (&  3  *•) 

Where  fortune  enters,  there  envy  lays  siege,  and 
strives  against  it,  and  when  this  departs  it  leaves  anguish 
and  remorse  behind.  (C.  A.  76  v.  a.} 

Envy  wounds  by  base  calumnies,  that  is  by  slander,  at 
which  virtue  is  filled  with  dismay.  (#  60  [12]  *'.) 

Good  Report  soars  and  rises  up  to  heaven,  for  virtuous 
things  find  favour  with  God.  Evil  Report  should  be 
shown  inverted,  for  all  "her  works  are  contrary  to  God 
and  tend  towards  hell.  (//  61  [i  3]  r.) 

This  envy  is  represented  making  a   contemptuous 


62  ALLEGORIES 

motion  towards  heaven,  because  if  she  could  she  would 
use  her  strength  against  God.  She  is  made  with  a  mask 
upon  her  face  of  fair  appearance.  She  is  made  wounded 
in  the  sight  by  palm  and  olive.  She  is  made  wounded  in 
the  ear  by  laurel  and  myrtle  to  signify  that  victory  and 
truth  offend  her.  She  is  made  with  many  lightnings 
issuing  forth  from  her  to  denote  her  evil  speaking.  She 
is  made  lean  and  wizened  because  she  is  ever  wasting  in 
perpetual  desire.  She  is  made  with  a  fiery  serpent 
gnawing  at  her  heart.  She  is  given  a  quiver  with 
tongues  for  arrows,  because  with  the  tongue  she  often 
offends,  and  she  is  made  with  a  leopard's  skin,  since  the 
leopard  from  envy  slays  the  lion  by  guile.  She  is  given 
a  vase  in  her  hand  full  of  flowers,  and  beneath  these 
filled  with  scorpions  and  toads  and  other  venomous 
things.  She  is  made  riding  upon  death,  because  envy 
never  dying  has  lordship  over  him  ;  and  death  is  made 
with  a  bridle  in  his  mouth  and  laden  with  various 
weapons,  since  these  are  all  the  instruments  of  death. 

(Oxford  Drawings,  Part  #.  No.  6.) 

In  the  moment  when  virtue  is  born  she  gives  birth  to 
envy  against  herself,  and  a  body  shall  sooner  exist 
without  a  shadow  than  virtue  without  envy. 

(Oxford  Drawings^  Part  it.  No.  6.) 

Pleasure  and  Pain  are  represented  as  twins,  as  though 
they  were  joined  together,  for  there  is  never  the  one 
without  the  other ;  and  they  turn  their  backs  because 
they  are  contrary  to  each  other. 

If  you  shall  choose  pleasure  know  that  he  has  behind  him 
one  who  will  deal  out  to  you  tribulation  and  repentance. 


ALLEGORIES  63 

This  is  pleasure  together  with  pain,  and  they  are 
represented  as  twins  because  the  one  is  never  separated 
from  the  other.  They  are  made  with  their  backs  turned 
to  each  other  because  they  are  contrary  the  one  to  the 
other.  They  are  made  growing  out  of  the  same  trunk 
because  they  have  one  and  the  same  foundation,  for  the 
foundation  of  pleasure  is  labour  with  pain,  and  the 
foundations  of  pain  are  vain1  and  lascivious  pleasures. 
And  accordingly  it  is  represented  here  with  a  reed  in  the 
right  hand  which  is  useless  and  without  strength  [?]  and 
the  wounds  made  with  it  are  poisoned.  In  Tuscany 
reeds  are  put  to  support  beds  to  signify  that  here  occur 
vain  dreams,  and  here  is  consumed  a  great  part  *  of 
life  :  here  is  squandered  much  useful  time,  namely  that 
of  the  morning  when  the  mind  is  composed  and  re- 
freshed, and  the  body  therefore  is  fitted  to  resume  new 
labours.  There  also  are  taken  many  vain  pleasures  both 
with  the  mind  imagining  impossible  things,  and  with 
the  body  taking  those  pleasures  which  are  often  the 
cause  of  the  failing  of  life ;  so  that  for  this  the  reed  is 
held  as  representing  such  foundations. 

(Oxford  Drawings^  Part  it.  No.  7.) 

Intellectual  passion  drives  out  sensuality. 

(C.  A.  358  v.  a.) 

Whoso  curbs  not  lustful  desires  puts  himself  on  a 
level  with  the  beasts. 

You  can  have  neither  a  greater  nor  a  less  dominion 
than  that  over  yourself, 

1  MS. c  vanj,"  not 


64  THE  SCOURGE  OF  FOLLY 

It  is  easier  to  resist  at  the  beginning  than  at  the  end. 

(H  M9[24*.]r.) 

If  you  kept  your  body  in  accordance  with  virtue 
your  desires  would  not  be  of  this  world. 

(*  3  *) 

Nothing  is  so  much  to  be  feared  as  a  bad  reputation. 

This  bad  reputation  is  caused  by  vices. 

(//4or.) 

You  grow  in  reputation  like  bread  in  the  hands  of 
children.  (JB  3  v.) 

Methinks  that  coarse  men  of  bad  habits  and  little 
power  of  reason  do  not  deserve  so  fine  an  instrument  or 
so  great  a  variety  of  mechanism  as  those  endowed  with 
ideas  and  with  great  reasoning  power,  but  merely  a  sack 
wherein  their  food  is  received,  and  from  whence  it  passes 
away.  For  in  truth  one  can  only  reckon -them  as  a 
passage  for  food ;  since  it  does  not  seem  to  me  that  they 
have  anything  in  common  with  the  human  race  except 
speech  and  shape,  and  in  all  else  they  are  far  below 

the  level  of  the  beasts. 

(Windsor  MSS.  Del?  Anat.  Fogti 3  21  v.) 

And  this  man  excels  in  folly  who  continually  stints 
himself  in  order  that  he  may  not  want,  and  his  life  slips 
away  while  he  is  still  looking  forward  to  enjoying  the 
wealth  which  by  extreme  toil  he  has  acquired. ' 

($.  K.  M.iu.  17  v.) 

O  speculators  about  perpetual  motion,  how  many  vain 
chimeras  have  you  created  in  the  like  quest?  Go  and 
take  your  place  with  the  seekers  after  gold. 

(8.  K.  M.  «.  92  v.) 


AVARICE— THE  HEALTH  OF  THE  BODY*       65 

O  misery  of  man !  To  how  many  things  do  you 
make  yourself  a  slave  for  money  ? 

(Windsor  MSS.  R  688.) 

To  the  ambitious,  whom  neither  the  boon  of  life  nor 
the  beauty  of  the  world  suffice  to  content,  it  comes  as 
penance  that  life  with  them  is  squandered,  and  that  they 
possess  neither  the  benefits  nor  the  beauty  of  the  world. 

(C.  A.  91  v.  a.) 

Strive  to  preserve  your  health ;  and  in  this  you  will  the 
better  succeed  in  proportion  as  you  keep  clear  of  the 
physicians,  for  their  drugs  are  a  kind  of  alchemy  con- 
cerning which  there  are  no  fewer  books  than  there 
are  medicines.  (Windsor  MSS.  Del?  An&t.  Fogli  A  2  r.) 

Every  man  desires  to  acquire  wealth  in  order  that  he 
may  give  it  to  the  doctors,  the  destroyers  of  life  ;  there- 
fore they  ought  to  be  rich.  (F  96  v.) 

Wine  is  good,  but  water  is  preferable  at  table. 

(/  1»  [74]  *.) 

Here  nature  seems  in  many  or  for  many  animals  to 
have  been  rather  a  cruel  step-mother  than  a  mother,  and 
for  some  not  a  step-mother  but  a  compassionate  mother. 

(S.  1C.  M.  HL  20  v.) 

We  support  life  by  the  death  of  others. 

In  dead  matter  there  remains  insensible  life,  which  on 
becoming  re-united  to  the  stomachs  of  the  living  re- 
sumes the  life  of  the  senses  and  of  the  intellect. 

(#89  [41]*.) 

Man  and  the  animals  are  merely  a  passage  and  channel 


66  OF  GOVERNANCE 

for  food,  a  tomb  for  other  animals,  a  haven  for  the  dead, 
giving  life  by  the  death  of  others,  a  coffer  full  of 
corruption.  (C.  A.  76  v.  a.) 

Man  has  great  power  of  speech,  but  the  greater  part 
thereof  is  empty  and  deceitful.  The  animals  have  little, 
but  that  little  is  useful  and  true l ;  and  better  is  a  small 
and  certain  thing  than  a  great  falsehood.  (F  96  v.) 

Lust  is  the  cause  of  generation. 

Appetite  is  the  stay  of  life. 

Fear  or  timidity  is  the  prolongation  of  life. 

Deceit  is  the  preservation  of  the  instrument. 

(ff3ar.) 

Let  the  street  be  as  wide  as  the  universal  height  of  the 
houses.  (£  36  r.) 

When  besieged  by  ambitious  tyrants,  I  find  a  means 
of  offence  and  defence  in  order  to  preserve  the  chief  gift 
of  nature,  which  is  liberty ;  and  first  I  would  speak  of 
the  position  of  the  walls,  and  then  of  how  the  various 
peoples  can  maintain  their  good  and  just  lords. 

(MS.  2037,  Bib.  Nat.  10  r.) 

Small  rooms  or  dwellings  set  the  mind  in  the  right 
path,  large  ones  cause  it  to  go  astray, 

(MS.  2038,  Bib.  Nat,  16  r.) 

If  you  cause  your  ship  to  stop,  and  place  the  head  of 
a  long  tube  in  the  water,  and  place  the  other  extremity 
to  your  ear  you  will  hear  ships  at  a  great  distance 
from  you. 

»  M.  «vero '  (the  reading  adopted  by  Dr.  Richter).    MS.  has  <  verso.' 


OF  CERTAIN  INVENTIONS  67 

You  can  also  do  the  same  by  placing  the  head  of  the 
tube  upon  the  ground,  and  you  will  then  hear  any  one 
passing  at  a  distance  from  you.  (B  6  r.) 

A    WAY    OF    SAVING    ONESELF    IN    A    TEMPEST 
OR    SHIPWRECK    AT    SEA 

It  is  necessary  to  have  a  coat  made  of  leather  with 
a  double  hem  over  the  breast  of  the  width  of  a  finger, 
and  double  also  from  the  girdle  to  the  knee,  and  let  the 
leather  of  which  it  is  made  be  quite  air-tight.  And 
when  you  are  obliged  to  jump  into  the  sea,  blow  out  the 
lappets  of  the  coat  through  the  hems  of  the  breast,  and 
then  jump  into  the  sea.  And  let  yourself  be  carried  by 
the  waves,  if  there  is  no  shore  near  at  hand  and  you  do 
not  know  the  sea.  And  always  keep  in  your  mouth  the 
end  of  the  tube  through  which  the  air  passes  into  the 
garment ;  and  if  once  or  twice  it  should  become  necessary 
for  you  to  take  a  breath  when  the  foam  prevents  you, 
draw  it  through  the  mouth  of  the  tube  from  the  air 
within  the  coat.  (j?  81  v.) 

Words  which  fail  to  satisfy  the  ear  of  the  listener  always 
either  fatigue  or  weary  him  ;  and  you  may  often  see  a 
sign  of  this  when  such  listeners  are  frequently  yawning. 
Consequently  when  addressing  men  whose  good  opinion 
you  desire,  either  cut  short  your  speech  when  you  see 
these  evident  signs  of  impatience,  or  else  change  the 
subject ;  for  if  you  take  any  other  course,  then  in  place 
of  the  approbation  you  desire  you  will  win  dislike  and 
ill-will. 

And  if  you  would  see  in  what  a  man  takes  pleasure 


68  OF  NECROMANCY 

without  hearing  him  speak,  talk  to  him  and  change  the 
subject  of  your  discourse  several  times,  and  when  it 
comes  about  that  you  see  him  stand  fixedly  without 
either  yawning  or  knitting  his  brows  or  making  any 
other  movement,  then  be  sure  that  the  subject  of  which 
you  are  speaking  is  the  one  in  which  he  takes  pleasure. 

(G  49  r.) 

But  of  all  human  discourses  that  must  be  considered 
as  most  foolish  which  affirms  a  belief  in  necromancy, 
which  is  the  sister  of  alchemy,  the  producer  of  simple 
and  natural  things,  but  is  so  much  the  more  worthy  of 
blame  than  alchemy,  because  it  never  gives  birth  to  any- 
thing whatever  except  to  things  like  itself,  that  is  to  say 
lies  ;  and  this  is  not  the  case  with  alchemy,  which  works 
by  the  simple  products  of  nature,  but  whose  function 
cannot  be  exercised  by  nature  herself,  because  there  are 
in  her  no  organic  instruments  with  which  she  might  be 
able  to  do  the  work  which  man  performs  with  his  hands, 
by  the  use  of  which  he  has  made  glass,  etc.  But  this 
necromancy,  an  ensign,  or  flying  banner,  blown  by  the 
wind,  is  the  guide  of  the  foolish  multitude,  which  is 
a  continual  witness  by  its  clamour  to  the  limitless  effects 
of  such  an  art.  And  they  have  filled  whole  books  in 
affirming  that  enchantments  and  spirits  can  work  and 
speak  'without  tongues,  and  can  speak  without  any 
organic  instrument, — without  which  speech  is  impossible, 
— and  can  carry  the  heaviest  weights,  and  bring  tempests 
and  rain,  and  that  men  can  be  changed  into  cats  and 
wolves  and  other  beasts,  although  those  first  become 
beasts  who  affirm  such  things. 


OF  NECROMANCY  69 

And  undoubtedly  if  this  necromancy  did  exist,  as  is 
believed  by  shallow  minds,  there  is  nothing  on  the  earth 
that  would  have  so  much  power  either  to  harm  or  benefit 
man  :  if  it  were  true,  that  is,  that  by  such  an  art  one  had 
the  power  to  disturb  the  tranquil  clearness  of  the  air,  and 
transform  it  into  the  hue  of  night,  to  create  coruscations 
and  tempests  with  dreadful  thunder-claps  and  lightning- 
flashes  rushing  through  the  darkness,  and  with  impetuous 
storms  to  overthrow  high  buildings  and  uproot  forests,  and 
with  these  to  encounter  armies  and  break  and  overthrow 
them,  and — more  important  even  than  this — to  make  the 
devastating  tempests,  and  thereby  rob  the  husbandmen 
of  the  reward  of  their  labours.     For  what  method  of 
warfare  can  there  be  which  can  inflict  such  damage  upon 
the  enemy  as  the  exercise  of  the  power  to  deprive  him  of 
his  crops  ?    What  naval  combat  could  there  be  which 
should  compare  with  that  which  he  would  wage  who  has 
command  of  the  winds  and  can  create  ruinous  tempests  that 
would  submerge  every  fleet  whatsoever  ?     In  truth,  who- 
ever has  control  of  such  irresistible  forces  will  be  lord 
over  all  nations,  and  no  human  skill  will  be  able  to  resist 
his  destructive  power.     The  buried  treasures,  the  jewels 
that  lie  in  the  body  of  the  earth  will  all  become  manifest 
to  him  ;  no  lock,  no  fortress,  however  impregnable,  will 
avail  to  save  any  one  against  the  will  of  such  a  necro- 
mancer.   He  will  cause  himself  to  be  carried  through  the 
air  from-  East  to  West,  and  through  all  the  uttermost 
parts  of  the  universe.     But  why  do  I  thus  go  on  adding 
instance  to  instance?    What  is  there  which  could  not 
be  brought  to  pass  by  a  mechanician   such  as  this? 
Almost  nothing,  except  the  escaping  from  death. 


70  THE  DEFINITION  OF  A  SPIRIT 

We  have  therefore  ascertained  in  part  the  mischief 
and  the  usefulness  that  belong  to  such  an  art  if  it  is 
real ;  and  if  it  is  real  why  has  it  not  remained  among 
men  who  desire  so  much,  not  having  regard  to  any 
deity,  merely  because  there  are  an  infinite  number  of 
persons  who  in  order  to  gratify  one  of  their  appetites 
would  destroy  God  and  the  whole  universe  ? 

If  then  it  has  not  remained  among  men,  although  so 
necessary  to  them,  it  never  existed,  and  never  can  exist3 
as  follows  from  the  definition  of  a  spirit,  which  is 
invisible  and  incorporeal,  for  within  the  elements  there 
are  no  incorporeal  things,  because  where  there  is  not  body 
there  is  a  vacuum,  and  the  vacuum  does  not  exist 
within  the  elements,  because  it  would  be  instantly  filled 

up  by  the  element. 

(Windsor  MSS.  Del?  Anat.  Fogli  B  31  v.) 

OF    SPIRITS 

We  have  just  now  stated  on  the  other  side  of  this 
page,  that  the  definition  of  a  spirit  is  a  power  united  to 
a  body,  because  of  itself  it  can  neither  offer  resistance 
nor  take  any  kind  of  local  movement ;  and  if  you  say 
that  it  does  in  itself  offer  resistance,  this  cannot  be  so 
within  the  elements,  because  if  the  spirit  is  a  quantity 
without  a  body,  this  quantity  is  what  is  called  a  vacuum, 
and  the  vacuum  does  not  exist  in  nature,  and  granting 
that  one  were  formed,  it  would  be  instantly  filled  up  by 
the  falling  in  of  that  element  within  which  such  a  vacuum 
had  been  created.  So  by  the  definition  of  weight,  which 
says  that  gravity  is  a  fortuitous  power  created  by  one 
element  being  drawn  or  impelled  towards  another,  it 


OF  WHETHER  A  SPIRIT  HAS  BODY  71 

follows  that  any  element,  though  without  weight  when 
in  the  same  element,  acquires  weight  in  the  element 
above  it,  which  is  lighter  than  itself;  so  one  sees  that 
one  part  of  the  water  has  neither  gravity  nor  levity  in 
the  rest  of  the  water,  but  if  you  draw  it  up  into  the  air 
then  it  will  acquire  weight,  and  if  you  draw  the  air 
under  the  water  then  the  water  on  finding  itself  above 
this  air  acquires  weight,  which  weight  it  cannot  support 
of  itself,  and  consequently  its  descent  is  inevitable,  and 
therefore  it  falls  into  the  water,  at  the  very  spot  which 
had  been  left  a  vacuum  by  this  water.  The  same  thing 
would  happen  to  a  spirit  if  it  were  among  the  elements,  for 
it  would  continually  create  a  vacuum  in  whatever  element 
it  chanced  to  find  itself ;  and  for  this  reason  it  would  be 
necessarily  in  perpetual  flight  towards  the  sky  until  it 
had  passed  out  of  these  elements. 

WHETHER   THE    SPIRIT    HAS    A    BODY    AMONG   THE 

ELEMENTS 

We  have  proved  how  the  spirit  cannot  of  itself  exist 
among  the  elements  without  a  body,  nor  yet  move  of 
itself  by  voluntary  movement  except  to  rise  upwards. 
We  now  proceed  to  say  that  such  a  spirit  in  taking 
a  body  of  air  must  of  necessity  spread  itself  through 
this  air  ;  for  if  it  remained  united,  it  would  be  separated 
from  it  and  would  fall,  and  so  create  a  vacuum,  as  is  said 
above  ;  and  therefore  it  is  necessary,  if  it  is  to  be  able  to 
remain  suspended  in  the  air,  that  it  should  spread  itself 
over  a  certain  quantity  of  air  ;  and  if  it  becomes  mingled 
with  the  air  two  difficulties  ensue,  namely,  that  it  rarefies 


72  OF  WHETHER  A  SPIRIT  CAN  MOVE 

that  quantity  of  air  within  which  it  is  mingled,  and  con- 
sequently this  air,  becoming  rarefied,  flies  upwards  of  its 
own  accord,  and  will  not  remain  among  the  air  that  is 
heavier  than  itself ;  and  moreover,  that  as  this  aethereal 
essence  is  spread  out,  the  parts  of  it  become  separated, 
and  its  nature  becomes  modified,  and  it  thereby  loses 
something  of  its  former  power.  To  these  there  is  also 
added  a  third  difficulty,  and  that  is  that  this  body  of  air 
assumed  by  the  spirit  is  exposed  to  the  penetrating  force 
of  the  winds,  which  are  incessantly  severing  and  tearing 
in  pieces  the  connected  portions  of  the  air,  spinning 
them  round  and  whirling  them  amid  the  other  air ;  and 
therefore  the  spirit  which  was  spread  through  this  air 
would  be  dismembered  or  rent  in  pieces  and  broken, 
together  with  the  rending  in  pieces  of  the  air  within 
which  it  was  spread. 

WHETHER    THE    SPIRIT    HAVING    ASSUMED   A    BODY    OF 
AIR    CAN    MOVE    OF    ITSELF    OR    NO 

It  is  impossible  that  the  spirit  diffused  within  a  quantity 
of  air  can  have  power  to  move  this  air  ;  and  this  is 
shown  by  the  former  section  in  which  it  is  stated  that 
the  spirit  rarefies  that  quantity  of  air  within  which  it  has 
entered.  This  air  consequently  will  rise  up  above  the 
other  air,  and  this  will  be  a  movement  made  by  the  air 
through  its  own  levity,  and  not  through  the  voluntary 
movement  of  the  spirit ;  and  if  this  air  meets  the  wind, 
by  the  third  part  of  this  section,  this  air  wilj  be  moved 
by  the  wind  tthd  not  by  the  spirit  which  is  diffused 
within.it. 


OF  WHETHER  A  SPIRIT  HAS  VOICE  73 

WHETHER   THE   SPIRIT   CAN    SPEAK    OR    NO 

Wishing  to  prove  whether  or  no  the  spirit  can  speak, 
it  is  necessary  first  to  define  what  voice  is,  and  how  it  is 
produced,  and  we  may  define  it  as  follows  : — the  voice  is 
movement  of  air  in  friction  against  a  compact  body,  or  of 
the  compact  body  in  friction  against  the  air,  which  is  the 
same  thing  ;  and  this  friction  of  compact  with  tenuous 
substance  condenses  the  latter,  and  so  makes  it  capable  of 
resisting;  moreover,  the  tenuous  substance,  when  in 
swift  motion,  and  a  similar  substance  moving  slowly, 
condense  each  other  at  their  contact,  and  make  a  noise 
or  tremendous  uproar  ;  and  the  sound  or  murmur  caused 
by  one  tenuous  substance  moving  through  another  at  a 
moderate  pace  [is]  like  a  great  flame  which  creates  noises 
within  the  air ;  and  the  loudest  uproar  made  by  one  tenuous 
substance  with  another  is  when  the  one  swiftly  moving 
penetrates  the  other  which  is  unmoveable,  as  for  instance 
the  flame  of  fire  issuing  forth  from  the  cannon  .and 
striking  against  the  air,  and  also  the  flame  issuing  from 
the  cloud,  which  strikes  the  air  and  so  produces  thunder- 
bolts. 

We  may  say  therefore,  that  the  spirit  cannot  produce 
a  voice  without  movement  of  air,  and  there  is  na  air 
within  it,  and  it  cannot  expel  air  from  itself  if  it  has  it  not, 
and  if  it  wishes  to  move  that  within  which  it  is  diffused, 
it  becomes  necessary  that  the  spirit  should  multiply  itself, 
and  this  it  cannot  do  unless  it  has  quantity.  And  by  the 
fourth  part  it  is  said  that  no  tenuous  body  can  move 
unless  it  has  a  fixed  spot  from  whence  to  take  its  motion, 
and  especially  in  the  case  of  an  element  moving  in  its 


74  OF  THE  SENSES 

own  element,  which  does  not  move  of  itself,  except 
by  uniform  evaporation  at  the  centre  of  the  thing 
evaporated,  as  happens  with  a  sponge  squeezed  in  the 
hand,  which  is  held  under  water,  since  the  water  flows 
away  from  it  in  every  direction  with  equal  movement 
through  the  openings  that  come  between  the  fingers  of 
the  hand  within  which  it  is  squeezed. 

Of  whether  the  spirit  has  articulate  voice, — and  whether 
the  spirit  can  be  heard, — and  what  hearing  is,  and  seeing  ; 
— and  how  the  wave  of  the  voice  passes  through  the  air, — 
and  how  the  images  of  objects  pass  to  the  eye. — 

(Wtodar  MSS.  Del?  Anat.  Fogli  B  31  r.  and  30  v.) 

HOW   THE    FIVE    SENSES   ARE    THE    MINISTERS   OF 
THE    SOUL 

The  soul  apparently  resides  in  the  seat  of  the  judg- 
ment, and  the  judgment  apparently  resides  in  the  place 
where  all  the  senses  meet,  which  is  called  the  common 
sense  ;  and  it  is  not  all  of  it  in  the  whole  body  as  many 
have  believed,  but  it  is  all  in  this  part ;  for  if  it  were 
all  in  the  whole,  and  all  in  every  part,  it  would  not  have 
been  necessary  for  the  instruments  of  the  senses  to  come 
together  in  concourse  to  one  particular  spot ;  rather 
would  it  have  sufficed  for  the  eye  to  register  its  function 
of  perception  on  its  surface,  and  not  to  transmit  the 
images  of  the  things  seen  to  the  sense  by  way  of  the 
optic  nerves;  because  the  soul — for  the  reason  already 
given — would  comprehend  them  upon  the  surface  of 
the  eye. 

Similarly,  with  the  sense   of  hearing,  it  would  be 


>»   .. . 


,rw.   •.,..  ,       -wf -aw    i      , 

" ;•'.:    ,    .#*-, ,:.w    ••    ;:"., 


-E:":;::-       :"  :-:v::V^.  -14/' 

tjl<'"  '         „  .1  'v'*^  t  • 


STUDIES  OF  THE  DELTOID  MUSCLE  OF  THE  SHOULDER 
IN  VARIOUS  ASPECTS 


OF  THE  SENSES  75 

sufficient  merely  for  the  voice  to  resound  in  the  arched 
recesses  of  the  rock-like  bone,  which  is  within  the  ear, 
without  there  being  another  passage  from  this  bone  to 
the  common  sense,  whereby  the  said  mouth  might  address 
itself  to  the  common" judgment. 

The  sense  of  smell  also  is  seen  to  be  forced  of  neces- 
sity to  have  recourse  to  this  same  judgment. 

The  touch  passes  through  the  perforated  tendons  and 
is  transmitted  to  this  sense ;  these  tendons  proceed  to 
spread  out  with  infinite  ramifications  into  the  skin  which 
encloses  the  body's  members  and  the  bowels.  The  per- 
forating  tendons  carry  impulse  and  sensation  to  the 
subject  limbs ;  these  tendons  passing  between  the 
muscles  and  the  sinews  dictate  to  these  their  movement, 
and  these  obey,  and  in  the  act  of  obeying  they  contract, 
for  the  reason  that  the  swelling  reduces  their  length 
and  draws  with  it  the  nerves^  which  are  interwoven  amid 
the  particles  of  the  limbs,  and  being  spread  throughout 
the  extremities  of  the  fingers,  they  transmit  to  the  sense 
the  impression  of  what  they  touch. 

The  nerves  with  their  muscles  serve  the  tendons,  even 
as  soldiers  serve  their  leaders,  and  the  tendons  serve 
the  common  sense  as  the  leaders  their  captain,  and  this 
common  sense  serves  the  soul  as  the  captain  serves  his 
lord. 

So  therefore,  the  articulation  of  the  bones  obeys  the 
nerve,  and  the  nerve  the  muscle,  and  the  muscle  the 
tendon,  and  the  tendon  the  common  sense,  and  the 
common  sense  is  the  seat  of  the  soul,  and  the  memory  is 
its  monitor,  and  its  faculty  of  receiving  impressions 
serves  as  its  standard  of  reference. 


76  OF  THE  ORIGIN  OF  THE  SOUL 

How  the  sense  waits  on  the  soul,  and  not  the  soul  on 
the  sense,  and  how  where  the  sense  that  should  minister 
to  the  soul  is  lacking,  the  soul  in  such  a  life  lacks  con- 
ception of  the  function  of  this  sense  as  is  seen  in  the 
case  of  a  mute  or  one  born  blind. 

(Windsor  MSB.  belt  Anat.  Togli  B  z  r.) 

Although  human  subtlety  makes  a  variety  of  inven- 
tions answering  by  different  means  to  the  same  end,  it 
will  never  devise   an   invention   more  beautiful,  more 
simple,  or  more  direct  than  does  nature,  because  in  her 
inventions  nothing  is  lacking,  and  nothing  is  superfluous ; 
and  she    needs   no    countervailing  weights  when   she 
creates  limbs  fitted  for  movement  in  the  bodies  of  the 
animals,  but   puts  within   them  the  soul  of  the  body 
which  forms  them,  that  is  the  soul  of  the  mother  which 
first  constructs  within  the  womb  the  shape  of  the  man, 
and  in  due  time  awakens  the  soul  that  is  to  be  its  inhabi- 
tant.    For  this  at  first  remained  asleep,  in  the  guardian- 
ship of  the  soul  of  the  mother,  who  nourishes  and  gives 
it  life  through  the  umbilical  vein,  with  all  its  spiritual 
members,  and  so  it  will  continue  for  such  time  as  the 
said  umbilical  cord  is  joined  to  the  placenta -and  the 
cotylidons  by  which  the  child  is  attached  to  the  mother. 
And  this  is  the  reason  why  any  wish  or  intense  desire  pr 
fright  experienced  by  the  mother,  or  any  other  mental 
suffering,  is  felt  more  powerfully  by  the  child  than  by  the 
mother,  for  there  are  many  cases  in  which  the  child  loses 
its  life  from  it. 

This  discourse  does  not  properly  Wong  here^  but  is 
necessary  in  treating  of  the  structure  of  animated  bodies  ; 


OF  THE  RENEWAL  OF  THE  BODY  77 

and  the  rest  of  the  definition  of  the  soul  I'leave  to  the 
wisdom  of  the  friars,  those  fathers  of  the  people  who  by 
inspiration  know  all  mysteries.  I  speak  not  against  the 
sacred  books,  for  they  are  supreme  truth. 

(Windsor  MBS.  fitudes  Anatomiquts  S  [Roawyre]  8  «/.) 

HOW   THE    BODY    OF   THE    ANIMAL    CONTINUALLY    DIES 
AND    IS    RENEWED 

The  body  of  anything  whatsoever  that  receives  nourish- 
ment continually  dies  and  is  continually  renewed.  For 
the  nourishment  cannot  enter  except  in  those  places 
where  the  preceding  nourishment  is  exhausted,  and  if 
it  is  exhausted  it  no  longer  has  life.  Unless  therefore 
you  supply  nourishment  equivalent  to  that  which  has 
departed,  the  life  fails  in  its  vigour  ;  and  if  you  deprive 
it  of  this  nourishment,  the  life  is  completely  destroyed. 
But  if  you  supply  it  with  just  so  much  as  is  destroyed 
day  by  day,  then  it  renews  its  life  just  as  much  as  it  is 
consumed  ;  like  the  light  of  this  candle  formed  by  the 
nourishment  given  to  it  by  the  fat  of  this  candle,  which 
light  is  also  continually  renewed  by  swiftest  succour  from 
beneath,  in  proportion  as  the  upper  part  is  consumed  and 
dies,  and  in  dying  becomes  changed  from  radiant  light  to 
murky  smoke.  And  this  death  extends  for  so  long  as 
the  smoke  continues  ;  and  the  period  of  duration  of  the 
smoke  is  the  same  as  that  of  what  feeds  it,  and  in  an 
instant  the  whole  light  dies  and  is  entirely  regenerated 
by  the  movement  of  that  which  nourishes  it ;  and  its  life 
receives  from  it  also  its  ebb  and  flow,  as  the  flicker  of  its 
point  serves  to  show  us.  The  same  process  also  conies 


78  OF  THE  RENEWAL  OF  THE  BODY 

to  pass  in  the  bodies  of  the  animals  by  means  of  the 
beating  of  the  heart,  whereby  there  is  produced  a  wave 
of  blood  in  all  the  veins,  and  these  are  continually  either 
enlarging  or  contracting,  because  the  expansion  occurs 
when  they  receive  the  excessive  quantity  of  blood,  and 
the  contraction  is  due  to  the  departure  of  the  excess  of 
blood  they  have  received ;  and  this  the  beating  of  the 
pulse  teaches  us,  when  we  touch  the  aforesaid  veins  with 
the  fingers  in  any  part  whatsoever  of  the  living  body. 
But  to  return  to  our  purpose,  I  say  that  the  flesh  of 
the  animals  is  made  anew  by  the  blood  which  is  continu- 
ally produced  by  that  which  nourishes  them,  and  that 
this  flesh  is  destroyed  and  returns  by  the  mesaraic 
arteries  and  passes  into  the,  intestines,  where  it  putrifies 
in  a  foul  and  fetid  death,  as  they  show  us  in  their 
deposits  and  steam  like  the  smoke  and  fire  which  were 
given  as  a  comparison. 

(Windsor  MSS.  Dell'  Anat.  Fogli  B  28  r.) 

And  this  old  man,  a  few  hours  before  his  death,  told 
me  that  he  had  lived  a  hundred  years,  and  that  he  did 
not  feel  any  bodily  ailment  other  than  weakness,  and  thus 
while  sitting  upon  a  bed  in  the  hospital  of  Santa  Maria 
Nuova  at  Florence,  without  any  movement  or  sign  of 
anything  amiss,  he  passed  away  from  this  life. 

And  I  made  an  autopsy  in  order  to  ascertain  the  cause 
of  so  peaceful  a  death,  and  found  that  it  proceeded  from 
weakness  through  failure  of  blood  and  of  the  artery  that 
feeds  the  heart  and  the  other  lower  members,  which  I 
found  to  be  very  parched  and  shrunk  and  withered  ;  and 
the  result  of  this  autopsy  I  wrote  down  very  carefully 


STUDIES  IN  THE  ANATOMY  OF  THE  NECK  AND  OF  THE 
BONES  OF  THE  FOOT 


Face  p.  78 


OF  SENILE  DECAY  79 

and  with  great  ease,  for  the  body  was  devoid  of  either  fat 
or  moisture,  and  these  form  the  chief  hindrance  to  the 
knowledge  of  its  parts. 

The  other  autopsy  was  on  a  child  of  two  years,  and 
here  I  found  everything  the  contrary  to  what  it  was  in 
the  case  of  the  old  man. 

The  old  who  enjoy  good  health  die  through  lack  of 
sustenance.  And  this  is  brought  about  by  the  passage  to 
the  mesaraic  veins  becoming  continually  restricted  by 
the  thickening  of  the  skin  of  these  veins  ;  and  the  pro- 
cess continues  until  it  affects  the  capillary  veins,  which 
are  the  first  to  close  up  altogether  ;  and  from  this  it 
comes  to  pass  that  the  old  dread  the  cold  more  than 
the  young,  and  that  those  who  are  very  old  have  their 
skin  the  colour  of  wood  or  of  dried  chestnut,  because 
this  skin  is  almost  completely  deprived  of  sustenance. 

And  this  network  of  veins  acts  in  man  as  in  oranges, 
in  which  the  peel  becomes  thicker  and  the  pulp  diminishes 
the  more  they  become  old.  And  if  you  say  that  as  the 
blood  becomes  thicker  it  ceases  to  flow  through  the 
veins,  this  is  not  true,  for  the  blood  in  the  veins  does- 
not  thicken  because  it  continually  dies  and  is  renewed. 

(H'wdior  MSS.  De/f  Anai.  Fcgit  B  10  r.) 

THE    NATURE    OF   THE    VEINS 

The  origin  of  the  sea  is  the  contrary  to  that  of  the 
blood,  for4  the  sea  receives  within  itself  all  the  rivers, 
which  are  entirely  caused  by  the  aqueous  ,vapours  that 
have  ascended  up  into  the  air ;  while  the  sea  of  the  blood 
'is  the  source  of  all  the  veins.  • 


8o  OF  THE  TONGUE 

OF    THE    NUMBER   OF    THE    VEINS 

The  vein  is  one  whole,  which  is  divided  into  as  many 
main  branches  as  there  are  principal  places  which  it  has  to 
nourish,  and  these  branches  are  subdivided  in  an  infinite 
number.  (Windsor  MBS.  Del?  Anat.  Fogli  A  4  r.) 

OF   THE    MUSCLES    WHICH    MOVE   THE    TONGUE 

No  member  needs  so  great  a  number  of  muscles  as 
the  tongue, — twenty-four  of  these  being  already  known 
apart  from  the  others  which  I  have  discovered ;  and  of 
all  the  members  which  are  moved  by  voluntary  action 
this  exceeds  all  the  rest  in  the  number  of  its  movements. 

And  if  you  shall  say  that  this  is  rather  the  function  of 
the  eye,  which  receives  all  the  infinite  varieties  of  form 
and  colour  of  the  objects  set  before  it,  and  of  the  smell 
with  its  infinite  mixture  of  odours,  and  of  the  ear  with 
its  sounds,  we  may  reply  that  the  tongue  also  perceives 
an  infinite  number  of  flavours  both  simple  and  com- 
pounded ;  but  this  is  not  to  our  purpose,  for  our  intention 
is  to  treat  only  of  the  particular  movement  of  each 
member. 

Consider  carefully  how  by  the  movement  of  the  tongue, 
with  the  help  of  the  lips  and  teeth,  the  pronunciation  of 
all  the  names  of  things  is  known  to  us ;  and  how,  by 
means  of  this  instrument,  the  simple  and  compound 
words  of  a  language  arrive  at  our  ears ;  and  how  these, 
if  there  were  a  name  for  all  the  effects  of  nature,  would 
approach  infinity  in  number,  together  with  all  the  count- 
less things  which  are  in  action  and  in  the  power  of 
nature  ;  and  these  would  not  be  expressed  in  one  language 


OF  LANGUAGE  81 

only,  but  in  a  great  number  of  languages,  and  these  also 
would  tend  to  infinite  variety,  because  they  vary  con- 
tinually from  century  to  century,  and  in  one  country  and 
another,  through  the  intermingling  of  the  peoples,  who 
by  wars  or  other  mischances  are  continually  becoming 
mixed  with  each  other  ;  and  these  same  languages  are 
liable  to  pass  into  oblivion,  and  they  are  mortal  like  all 
the  rest  of  created  things ;  and  if  we  grant  that  our  world 
is  everlasting  we  shall  then  say  that  these  languages  have 
been,  and  still  must  be,  of  infinite  variety,  through  the  in- 
finite number  of  centuries  which  constitute  infinite  time. 
Nor  is  this  true  in  the  case  of  any  other  sense  ;  for 
these  are  concerned  only  with  such  things  as  nature  is 
continually  producing,  and  she  does  not  change  the 
ordinary  kinds  of  the  things  which  she  creates  in  the 
same  way  that  from  time  to  time  the  things  are  changed 
which  have  been  created  by  man  ;  and  indeed  man  is 
nature's  chiefest  instrument,  because  nature  is  concerned 
only  with  the  production  of  elementary  things,  but  mati 
from  these  elementary  things  produces  an  infinite  number 
of  compounds,  although  he  has  no  power  to  create  any 
natural  thing  except  another  like  himself,  that  is  his 
children.  And  of  this  the  old  alchemists  will  serve  as 
my  witnesses,  who  have  never  either  by  chance  or  de- 
liberate experiment  succeeded  in  creating  the  smallest 
thing  which  can  be  created  by  nature ;  and  indeed  this 
generation  deserves  unmeasured  praises  for  the  service- 
ableness  of  the  things  which  they  have  invented  for  the 
use  of  men,  and  would  deserve  them  even  more  if  they 
had  not  been  the  inventors  of  noxious  things  like  poisons 
and  other  similar  things  which  destroy  the  life  or  the 


8.  OF  ALCHEMY 

intellect ;  but  they  are  not  exempt  from  blame  in  that  by 
much  study  and  experiment  they  are  seeking  to  create, 
not,  indeed,  the  meanest  of  nature's  products,  but  the 
most  excellent,  namely  gold,  which  is  begotten  of  the  sun 
inasmuch  as  it  has  more  resemblance  to  it  than  to  any- 
thing else  that  is,  and  no  created  thing  is  more  enduring 
than  this  gold.  It  is  immune  from  destruction  by  fire, 
which  has  power  over  all  the  rest  of  created  things, 
reducing  them  to  ashes,  glass,  or  smoke.  If,  however, 
insensate  avarice  should  drive  you  into  such  error,  why 
do  you  not  go  to  the  mines  where  nature  produces  this 
gold,  and  there  become  her  disciple  ?  She  will  completely 
cure  you  of  your  folly  by  showing  you  that  nothing 
which  you  employ  in  your  furnace  will  be  numbered 
among  the  things  which  she  employs  in  order  to  produce 
this  gold.  For  there  is  there  no  quicksilver,  no  sulphur 
of  any  kind,  no  fire  nor  other  heat  than  that  of  nature 
giving  life  to  our  world  ;  and  she  will  show  you  the 
veins  of  the  gold  spreading  through  the  stone, — the 
blue  lapis  lazuli,  whose  colour  is  unaffected  by  the  power 
of  the  fire.  And  consider  carefully  this  ramification  of 
the  gold,  and  you  will  see  that  the  extremities  of  it  are 
continually  expanding  in  slow  movement,  transmuting 
into  gold  whatever  they  come  in  contact  with  ;  and  note 
that  therein  is  a  living  organism  which  it  is  not  within 
your  power  to  produce. 

(Windsor  MSS.  Dell9  Anat.  Fogli  B  28  tt) 

And  thou,  man,  who  by  these  my  labours  dost  look 
upon  the  marvellous  works  of  nature,  if  thou  judgest  it 
to  be  an  atrocious  act  to  destroy  the  same,  reflect  that 


OF  THE  MYSTERY  OF  LIFE  83 

it  is  an  infinitely  atrocious  act  to  take  away  the  life  of 
man.  For  thou  shouldst  be  mindful  that  though  what 
is  thus  compounded  seem  io  thee  of  marvellous  subtlety, 
it  is  as  nothing  compared  with  the  soul  that  dwells  within 
this  structure  ;  and  in  truth,  whatever  this  may  be, 
it  is  a  divine  thing  which  suffers  it  thus  to  dwell  within 
its  handiwork  at  its  good  pleasure,  and  wills  not  that 
thy  rage  or  malice  should  destroy  such  a  life,  since  in 
truth  he  who  values  it  not  does  not  deserve  it. 

For  we  part  from  the  body  with  extreme  reluctance, 
and  I  indeed  believe-  that  its  grief  and  lamentation  are 
not  without  cause. 

(Windsor  MSS.  Del?  Anat.  Fegli  A  2  r.) 

I  wish  to  work  miracles  ; — I  may  have  less  than  other 
men  who  are  more  tranquil,  or  than  those  who  aim  at 
growing  rich  in  a  day.  I  may  live  for  a  long  time  in  dire 
poverty  as  happens,  and  to  all  eternity  will  happen,  to 
the  alchemists,  the  would-be  creators  of  gold  and  silver, 
and  to  the  mechanicians  who  attempt  to  make  dead 
water  stir  itself  into  life  in  perpetual  motion,  and  to 
those  consummate  fools,  the  necromancer  and  the 
enchanter. 

And  you  who  say  that  it  is  better  to  look  at  an 
anatomical  demonstration  than  to  see  these  drawings, 
you  would  be  right,  if  it  were  possible  to  observe  all  the 
details  shown  in  these  drawings  in  a  single  figure,  in 
which,  with  all  your  ability,  you  will  not  see  nor  acquire 
a  knowledge  of  more  than  some  few  veins,  while,  in 
order  to  obtain  an  exact  and  complete  knowledge  of 
these,  I  have  dissected  more  than  ten  human  bodies, 


84  OF  ANATOMICAL  STUDY 

destroying  all  the  various  members,  and  removing  even 
the  very  smallest  particles  of  the  flesh  which  surrounded 
these  veins  without  causing  any  effusion  of  blood  other 
than  the  imperceptible  bleeding  of  the  capillary  veins. 
And,  as  one  single  body  did  not  suffice  for.  so  long  a 
time,  it  was  necessary  to  proceed  by  stages  with  so  many 
bodies  as  would  render  my  knowledge  complete ;  and 
this  I  repeated  twice  over  in  order  to  discover  the 
differences. 

But  though  possessed  of  an  interest  in  the  subject  you 
may  perhaps  be  deterred  by  natural  repugnance,  or,  if 
this  does  not  restrain  you,  then  perhaps  by  the  fear  of 
passing  the  night-hours  in  the  company  of  these  corpses, 
quartered  and  flayed  and  horrible  to  behold  ;  and,  if  this 
does  not  deter  you,  then  perhaps  you  may  lack  the 
skill  in  drawing  essential  for  such  representation  ;  and 
even  if  you  possess  this  skill  it  may  not  be  combined 
with  a  knowledge  of  perspective,  while,  if  it  is  so 
combined,  you  may  not  be  versed  in  the  methods  of 
geometrical  demonstration  or  the  method  of  estimating 
the  forces  and  strength  of  muscles,  or  perhaps  you  may 
be  found  wanting  in  patience  so  that  you  will  not  be 
diligent.  Concerning  which  things,  whether  or  no  they 
have  all  been  found  in  me,  the  hundred  and  twenty  books 
which  I  have  composed  will  give  their  verdict  *  yes '  or 
'  no > ;  in  these  I  have  not  been  hindered  either  by  avarice 
or  negligence  but  only  by  want  of  time.  Farewell. 

(fpinasor  M$$.  ttudes  Anatomises  RecueilfB  (Rouveyri)  7  v.) 


PLATE  4. 


STUDIES  OF  A  SKLLL  IN  MFDIAN  SECTION 


Face  p.  84 


BOOK    II 
NATURE 

PRAISE    OF   THE    SUN 

IF  you  look  at  the  stars  without  their  rays, — as  may  be 
done  by  looking  at  them  through  a  small  hole  made  with 
the  extreme  point  of  a  fine  needle  and  placed  so  as 
almost  to  touch  the  eye, — you  will  perceive  these  stars 
to  be  so  small  that  nothing  appears  less  ;  and  in  truth 
the  great  distance  gives  them  a  natural  diminution, 
although  there  are  many  there  which  are  a  great  many 
times  larger  than  the  star  which  is  our  earth  together 
with  the  water.  Think,  then,  what  this  star  of  ours 
would  seem  like  at  so  great  a  distance,  and  then  consider 
how  many  stars  might  be  set  longitudinally  and  lati- 
tudinally  amid  these  stars  which  are  scattered  throughout 
this  dark  expanse.  I  can  never  do  other  than  blame 
those  many  ancients  who  said  that  the  sun  was  no  larger 
than  it  appears, — among  these  being  Epicurus  ;  and  I 
believe  that  such  a  theory  is  borrowed  from  the  idea  of 
a  light  set  in  our  atmosphere  equidistant  from  the  centre 
[of  the  earth]  ;  whoever  sees  it  never  sees  it  lessened  in 
size  at  any  distance,  and  the  reasons  of  its  size  and 
potency  I  shall  reserve  for  the  Fourth  Book. 

But  I  marvel  greatly  that  Socrates  should  have  spoken 


StS  OF  THE  SUN 

with  disparagement  of  that  body,  and  that  he  should 
have  said  that  it  resembled  a  burning  stone,  and  it  is 
certain  that  whoever  opposes  him  in  such  an  error  can 
scarcely  do  wrong.  I  could  wish  that  I  had  such  power 
of  language  as  should  avail  me  to  censure  those  who 
would  fain  extol  the  worship  of  men  above  that  of  the 
sun,  for  I  do  not  perceive  in  the  whole  universe  a  body 
greater  and  more  powerful  than  this,  and  its  light 
illumines  all  the  celestial  bodies  which  are  distributed 
throughout  the  universe. 

All  vital  principle  descends  from  it,  since  the  heat 
there  is  in  living  creatures  proceeds  from  this  vital 
principle,  and  there  is  no  other  heat  or  light  in  the 
universe,  as  I  shall  show  in  the  Fourth  Book,  and,  indeed, 
those  who  have  wished  to  worship  men  as  gods,  such  as 
Jupiter,  Saturn,  Mars,  and  the  like,  have  made  a  very 
grave  error  seeing  that  even  if  a  man  were  as  large  as  our 
earth  he  would  seem  like  one  of  the  least  of  the  stars, 
which  appears  but  a  speck  in  the  universe  ;  and  seeing 
also  that  these  men  are  mortal  and  subject  to  decay  and 
corruption  in  their  tombs. 

The  Spera,  and  Marullo,  and  many  others  praise  the 
Sun.  (F  5  r.  and  4  v.) 

All  the  flowers  which  see  the  sun  mature  their  seed, 
and  not  the  others,  that  is  those  which  see  only  the 
reflection  of  the  sun,  (G  37  r.) 

That  the  atmosphere  attracts  to  itself  like  a  magnet 
all  the  images  of  the  things  which  surround  it>  and  not 
only  their  bodily  shapes  but  also  their  nature,  is  clearly 


OF  THE  SUN  87 

to  be  seen  in  the  case  of  the  sun,  which  is  a  hot  and 
luminous  body.  All  the  atmosphere  which  is  exposed 
to  its  influence  is  charged  in  all  its  parts  with  light  and 
heat,  and  it  all  receives  within  itself  the  shape  of  that 
which  is  the  source  of  this  heat  and  radiance  and  does 
the  same  also  in  each  minutest  part.  The  north  star  is 
shown  to  do  the  same  by  the  needle  of  the  compass ; 
and  each  of  the  planets  does  the  like  without  itself 
undergoing  any  diminution.  Among  the  products  of 
the  earth  the  same  is  found  to  happen  with  musk  and 
other  scents.  (C.  A,  138  v.  t>.) 

EXPLANATION    OF   WHY   THE    SUN    SEEMS    LARGER 
IN    THE    WEST 

Certain  mathematicians  contend  that  the  sun  grows 
larger  when  it  is  setting,  because  the  eye  sees  it  continually 
through  atmosphere  of  greater  density,  alleging  that 
objects  seen  through  mist  and  in  water  seem  larger. 
To  those  I  reply  that  this  is  not  the  case,  for  the  things 
seen  through  the  mist  are  similar  in  colour  to  those 
which  are  at  a  distance,  but  as  they  do  not  undergo 
the  same  process  of  diminution,  they  appear  greater 
in  size. 

In  the  same  way  nothing  seems  larger  in  smooth 
water,  and  this  you  may  prove  by  tracing  upon  a  board 
which  is  placed  under  water. 

The  real  reason  why  the  sun  grows  larger  is  that 
every  luminous  body  appears  larger,  as  it  is  further  away. 


88  OF  THE  MOON 

WHAT   THE    MOON    IS 

The  moon  is  not  luminous  in  itself,  but  it  is  well 
fitted  to  take  the  characteristics  of  light  after  the  manner 
of  the  mirror  or  of  water  or  any  other  shining  body  ;  and 
it  grows  larger  in  the  East  and  in  the  West  like  the  sun 
and  the  other  planets,  and  the  reason  of  this  is  that  every 
luminous  body  grows  larger  as  it  becomes  more  remote. 

It  may  be  readily  understood  that  every  planet  and  star 
is  further  away  from  us  when  in  the  West  than  when  it  is 
overhead,  by  about  three  thousand  five  hundred  [miles] 
according  to  the  proof  given  at  the  side  [of  the  page] ; i 
and  if  you  see  the  sun  or  moon  reflected  in  water  which  is 
near  at  hand  it  will  seem  to  be  the  same  size  in  the  water 
as  it  does  in  the  sky,  while  if  you  go  away  to  the  distance 
of  a  mile  it  will  seem  a  hundred  times  as  large.  And  if 
you  see  it  reflected  in  the  sea  at  the  moment  of  its  setting 
the  image  of  the  sun  will  seem  to  you  to  be  more  than 
ten  miles  long,  because  it  will  cover  in  this  reflection 
more  than  ten  miles  of  sea.  And  if  you  were  where  the 
moon  is,  it  would  appear  to  you  that  the  sun  was  reflected 
over  as  much  of  the  sea  as  it  illumines  in  its  daily  course, 
and  the  land  would  appear  amid  this  v/ater  like  the  dark 
spots  that  are  upon  the  moon,  which  when  looked  at  from 
the  earth  presents  to  mankind  the  same  appearance  that 
our  earth  would  present  to  men  dwelling  in  the  moon. 

OF   THE    NATURE    OF   THE    MOON 

When  all  that  we  can  see  of  the  moon  is  illuminated 
it  gives  us  its  maximum  of  light,  and  then  from  the 

1  Here  the  margin  of  the  MS.  contains  a  diagram  representing  the  earth 
with  the  sun  shown  in  two  positions. 


OF  THE  MOON  89 

reflection  of  the  rays  of  "the  sun  which  strike  upon  it  and 
rebound  towards  us  its  ocean  throws  off  less  moisture  to 
us,  and  the  less  light  it  gives  the  more  it  is  harmful. 

(A6±r.) 

THE    SPOTS    ON    THE    MOON 

Some  have  said  that  vapours  are  given  off  from  the 
moon  after  the  manner  of  clouds,  and  are  interposed 
between  the  moon  and  our  eyes.  If  this  were  the  case 
these  spots  would  never  be  fixed  either  as  to  position  or 
shape ;  and  when  the  moon  was  seen  from  different  points, 
even  although  these  spots  did  not  alter  their  position 
they  would  change  their  shape,  as  does  a  thing  which  is 
seen  on  different  sides.  (F  84  r.) 

OF   THE    SPOTS    ON    THE    MOON 

Others  have  said  that  the  moon  is  made  up  of  parts, 
some  more,  some  less  transparent,  as  though  one  part  were 
after  the  manner  of  alabaster,  and  another  like  crystal  or 
glass.  It  would  then  follow  that  when  the  rays  of  the 
sun  struck  the  less  transparent  part  the  light  would  stay 
on  the  surface,  and  consequently  the  denser  part  would 
be  illuminated,  and  the  transparent  part  would  reveal 
the  shadows  of  its  obscure  depths.  Thus  then  they 
define  the  nature  of  the  mfton,  and  this  view  has  found 
favour  with  many  philosophers,  and  especially  with 
Aristotle  ;  but  nevertheless  it  is  false,  since  in  the 
different  phases  which  the  moon  and  the  sun  frequently 
piresent  to  our  eyes  we  should  be  seeing  these  spots  vary, 
and  at  one  time  they  would  appear  dark  and  at  another 
light.  They  would  be  dark  when  the  sun  is  in  the  West 


90  OF  THE  MOON 

and  the  moon  in  the  centre  of  the  sky,  because  the 
transparent  hollows  would  then  be  in  shadow  as  far  as  the 
tops  of  their  edges,  since  the  sun  could  not  cast  its  rays 
into  the  mouths  of  these  same  hollows  ;  and  they  would 
appear  bright  at  full  moon,  when  the  moon  in  the  East 
faces  the  sun  in  the  West ;  for  then  the  sun  would 
illumine  even  the  lowest  depths  of  these  transparent 
parts,  and,  in  consequence,  as  no  shadow  was  created,  the 
moon  would  not  at  such  times  reveal  to  us  the  above- 
mentioned  spots,  and  so  it  would  be,  sometimes  more 
sometimes  less,  according  to  the  change  in  the  position 
of  the  sun  to  the  moon,  and  of  the  moon  to  our  eyes,  as 
I  have  said  above.  (F  84  v.) 

It  has  also  been  said  that  the  spots  on  the  moon  are 
created  in  the  moon  itself,  by  the  fact  of  it  being  of 
varying  thinness  or  density.  If  this  were  so,  then  in  the 
eclipses  of  the  moon  the  solar  rays  could  pierce  through 
some  part  where  it  is  thin,  as  has  been  stated,  but  since 
we  do  not  see  this  result  the  aforesaid  theory  is  false. 

*  Others  say  that  the  surface  of  the  moon  is  smooth 
and  polished,  and  that,  like  a  mirror,  it  receives  within 
itself  the  reflection  of  the  earth.  This  theory  is  false, 
since  the  earth,  when  not  covered  by  the  water,  presents 
different  shapes  from  different  points  of  view ;  so  when 
the  moon  is  in  the  East  it  would  reflect  other  spots  than 
when  it  is  overhead  or  in  the  West,  whereas  the  spots 
upon  the  moon,  as  seen  at  full  moon,  never  change  during 
the  course  which  it  makes  in  our  hemisphere.  A  second 
reason  is  that  an  object  reflected  in  a  convex  surface  fills 
only  a  small  part  of  the  mirror,  as  is  proved  in  perspec- 


OF  THE  MOON  91 

tive.  The  third  reason  Is  that  when  the  moon  is  full  it 
only  faces  half  the  orb  of  the  illuminated  earth,  in  which 
the  ocean  and  the  other  waters  shine  brightly,  while  the 
land  forms  spots  amid  this  brightness;  and  consequently 
the  half  of  our  earth  would  be  seen  girded  round  about 
by  the  radiance  of  the  sea,  which  takes  its  light  from  the 
sun,  and  in  the  moon  this  reflection  would  be  the  least 
part  of  that  moon.  The  fourth  reason  is  that  one 
radiant  body  cannot  be  reflected  in  another,  and  con- 
sequently as  the  sea  derives  its  radiance  from  the  sun, 
as  does  also  the  moon,  it  could  not  show  the  reflected 
image  of  the  earth,  unless  one  also  saw  reflected  there 
separately  the  orb  of  the  sun  and  of  each  of  the  stars 
which  look  down  upon  it.  (F  85  r.) 

HOW  IF  THE  MOON  IS  POLISHED  AND  SPHERICAL  THE 
IMAGE  OF  THE  SUN  UPON  IT  IS  POWERFULLY 
LUMINOUS,  AND  IS  ONLY  ON  A  SMALL  PART  OF 
ITS  SURFACE 

You  will  see  the  proof  of  this  by  taking  a  ball  of 
burnished  gold  and  placing  it  in  the  darkness  and  setting 
a  light  at  some  distance  from  it.  Although  this  illumi- 
nates about  half  the  ball,  the  eye  only  sees  it  reflected  on 
a  small  part  of  its  surface,  and  all  the  rest  of  the  surface 
reflects  the  darkness  which  surrounds  it.  For  this  reason 
it  is  only  there  that  the  image  of  the  light  is  apparent, 
and  all  the  rest  remains  invisible  because  the  eye  is  at  a 
distance  from  the  ball.  The  same  thing  would  happen 
with  the  surface  of  the  moon  if  it  were  polished,  glittering 
and  solid,  as  are  bodies  which  have  a  reflecting  surface. 

Show  how  if  you  were  upon  the  moon  or  upon  a  star 


92  OF  THE  MOON 

our  earth  would  appear  to  you  to  perform  the  same 
function  for  the  sun  as  now  the  moon  does.  And  show 
how  the  reflection  of  the  sun  in  the  sea  cannot  itself 
appear  a  sun  as  it  does  in  a  flat  mirror.  (F  93  r.) 

OF   THE    CIRCLES    OF    THE    MOON 

I  find  that  those  circles  which  at  night  seem  to 
surround  the  moon,  varying  in  circumference  and  in  their 
degree  of  redness,  are  caused  by  the  different  degrees  of 
thickness  of  the  vapours  which  are  situated  at  different 
altitudes  between  the  moon  and  our  eyes.  And  the 
circle  that  is  larger  and  less  red  is  in  the  first  part  lower 
than  the  said  vapours ;  the  second,  being  less,  is  higher 
and  appears  redder,  because  it  is  seen  through  two  sets 
of  vapours ;  and  so  the  higher  they  are  the  smaller  and 
the  redder  will  they  appear,  for  between  the  eye  and 
them  there  will  be  more  layers  of  vapours,  and  this  goes 
to  prove  that  where  there  appears  greater  redness,  there 
there  is  a  greater  quantity  of  vapours. 

(C.  A.  349  *•  *•) 

Why  the  thunder  lasts  for  a  longer  time  than  that 
which  causes  it ; — and  why,  immediately  on  its  creation, 
the  lightning  becomes  visible  to  the  eye,  while  the 
thunder  requires  time  to  travel,  after  the  manner  of  a 
wave,  and  makes  the  loudest  noise  when  it  meets  with 
most  resistance.  (K  no  [30]  v.) 

THE    ORDER    OF   THE    FIRST    BOOK    ON    WATER 

Define  first  of  all  what  is  height  and  depth,  also  how 
the  elements  are  situated  one  within  the  other.  Then 


OF  WATER  93 

what  is  solid  weight  and  liquid  weight ;  but  first  of  all 
what  weight  and  lightness  consist  of  in  themselves. 
Then  describe  why  water  moves,  and  why  its  motion 
ceases ;  then  why  it  becomes  slower  or  more  rapid,  and 
in  addition  to  this  how  it  continually  descends  when  in 
contact  with  air  that  is  lower  than  itself;  and  how  the 
water  rises  in  the  air  through  the  heat  of  the  sun  and 
then  falls  back  in  rain.  Further  why  the  water  springs 
from  the  summits  of  the  mountains,  and  whether  any 
spring  of  water  higher  than  the  ocean  can  pour  forth 
water  higher  than  the  surface  of  this  ocean  ;  and  how  all 
the  water  that  returns  to  the  ocean  is  higher  than  the 
sphere  of  the  water  :  and  how  the  water  of  the  equi- 
noctial seas  is  higher  than  the  northern  waters,  and  is 
higher  beneath  the  body  of  the  sun  than  in  any  other 
part  of  the  circle  of  the  equator ;  for  when  the  experi- 
ment is  made  under  the  heat  of  a  burning  brand,  the 
water  boils  as  the  effect  of  the  brand,  and  the  water 
around  the  centre  of  where  it  boils  descends  in  a  circular 
wave.  And  how  the  waters  of  the  north  are  lower  than 
the  other  seas,  and  more  so  as  they  become  colder,  until 
they  are  changed  into  ice.  (B  12  r.) 

THE    BEGINNING   OF    THE    TREATISE   ON    WATEB 

Man  has  been  called  by  the  ancients  a  lesser  world, 
and  indeed  the  term  is  rightly  applied,  seeing  that  if 
man  is  compounded  of  earth,  water,  air  and  fire,  this 
body  of  the  earth  is  the  same ;  and  as  man  has  within 
himself  bones  as  a  stay  and  framework  for  the  flesh,  so 
the  world  has  the  rocks  which  are  the  supports  of  the 


94  OF  THE  EARTH'S  STRUCTURE 

earth  ;  as  man  has  within  him  a  pool  of  blood  wherein 
the  lungs  as  he  breathes  expand  and  contract,  so  the 
body  of  the  earth  has  its  ocean,  which  also  rises  and  falls 
every  six  hours  with  the  breathing  of  the  world  ;  as 
from  the  said  pool  of  blood  proceed  the  veins  which 
spread  out  their  branches  throughout  the  human  body, 
in  just  the  same  manner  the  ocean  fills  the  body  of  the 
earth  with  an  infinite  number  of  veins  of  water.  In  this 
body  of  the  earth  there  is  lacking,  however;  the  sinews, 
and  these  are  absent  because  sinews  are  created  for  the 
purpose  of  movement,  and  as  the  world  is  perpetually 
stable  within  itself  no  movement  ever  takes  place  there, 
and  in  the  absence  of  any  movement  the  sinews  are 
not  necessary;  but  in  all  other  things  man  and  the 
world  show  a  great  resemblance.  (^55  *'•) 


OF   THE    HEAT    THAT    IS    IN    THE    WORLD 

Where  there  is  life  there  is  heat,  and  where  there  is 
vital  heat  there  is  movement  of  vapour.  This  is  proved 
because  one  sees  that  the  heat  of  the  element  of  fire 
always  draws  to  itself  the  damp  vapours,  the  thick  mists 
and  dense  clouds  which  are  given  off  by  the  seas  and 
other  lakes  and  rivers  and  m  irshy  valleys.  And  drawing 
these  little  by  little  up  to  th'  cold  region,  there  thcj  first 
part  halts,  because  the  warm  and  moist  cannot  exist  with 
cold  and  dryness ;  and  this  first  part  having  halted  receives 
the  other  parts,  and  so  all  the  parts  joining  together  one 
to  another  form  thick  and  dark  clouds.  And  these  are 
often  swept  away  and  carried  by  the  winds  from  one 
region  to  another,  until  at  last  their  density  gives  them 


OF  THE  EARTH'S  STRUCTURE      95 

such  weight  that  they  fall  in  thick  rain  ;  but  if  the  heat 
of  the  sun  is  added  to  the  power  of  the  element  of  fire, 
the  clouds  are  drawn  up  higher,  and  come  to  more  intense 
cold,  and  there  become  frozen,  and  so  produce  hailstorms, 
So  the  same  heat  which  holds  up  so  great  a  weight  of 
water  as  is  seen  to  fall  in  rain  from  the  clouds,  sucks  it 
up  from  below  from  the  roots  of  the  mountains  and 
draws  it  up  and  confines  it  among  the  mountain  summits, 
and  there  the  water  finds  crevices,  and  so  continuing  it 
issues  forth  and  creates  rivers.  (A  55  *.) 

OF   THE   SEA    WHICH    GIRDLES  THE    EARTH 

I  perceive  that  the  surface  of  the  earth  was  from  of 
old  entirely  filled  up  and  covered  over  in  its  level  plains 
by  the  salt  waters,  and  that  the  mountains,  the  bones  of 
the  earth,  with  their  wide  bases,  penetrated  and  towered 
up  amid  the  air,  covered  over  and  clad  with  much  high- 
lying  soil.  Subsequently,  the  incessant  rains  have  caused 
the  rivers  to  increase,  and  by  repeated  washing,  have 
stripped  bare  part  of  the  lofty  summits  of  these  moun- 
tains, leaving  the  site  of  the  earth,  so  that  the  rock  finds 
itself  exposed  to  the  air,  and  the  earth  has  departed  from 
these  places.  And  the  earth  from  off  the  slopes  and  the 
lofty  summits  of  the  mountains  has  already  descended 
to  their  bases,  and  has  raised  the  floors  of  the  seas  which 
encircle  these  bases,  and  caused  the  plain  to  be  uncovered, 
and  in  some  parts  has  driven  away  the  seas  from  there 
over  \  great  distance.  (C.  A.  126  t\  6.) 


j6  OF  WATER 

OF    THE    FOAM    OF   WATER 

Water  which  falls  from  a  height  into  other  water  im- 
prisons within  itself  a  certain  quanuty  of  air,  and  this 
through  the  force  of  the  blow  becomes  submerged  with 
it,  and  then  with  swift  movement  rises  up  again  and 
arrives  at  the  surface  which  it  has  quitted,  clothed  with  a 
fine  veil  of  moisture,  spherical  in  form,  and  proceeds  by 
circles  away  from  the  spot  where  it  first  struck.  Or  the 
water  which  falls  down  upon  other  water  runs  away  from 
the  spot  where  it  strikes,  in  various  different  branches, 
bifurcating  and  mingling  and  interlacing  one  with 
another  ;  and  some,  being  hollow,  are  dashed  back  upon 
the  surface  of  the  water ;  and  so  great  is  the  force  of 
the  weight,  and  of  the  shock  caused  by  this  water,  that 
through  its  extreme  swiftness  the  air  is  unable  to  escape 
into  its  own  element,  but  on  the  contrary  is  submerged 
in  the  manner  that  I  have  stated  above.  (A  59  r.) 


OF  THE  OPINION  HELD  BY  SOME  THAT  THE  WATER  OF 
SOME  SEAS  IS  HIGHER  THAN  THE  HIGHEST  SUMMITS 
OF  THE  MOUNTAINS  AND  THAT  THE  WATER  WAS 
DRIVEN  UP  TO  THESE  SUMMITS 

Water  will  not  move  from  one  spot  to  another  unless 
to  seek  a  lower  level,  and  in  the  natural  course  of  its 
current  it  will  never  be  able  to  return  to  an  elevation 
equal  to  that  of  the  spot  where  it  first  issued  forth  from 
the  mountains  and  came  into  the  light.  That  part  of 
the  sea  which  by  an  error  of  imagination  you  state  to 
have  been  so  high  as  to  have  flowed  over  the  summits  of 


OF  THE  WATER  OF  THE  SEA  97 

the  high  mountains  for  so  many  centuries,  would  be  con- 
sumed and  poured  out  in  the  water  that  has  issued  from 
these  same  mountains.  You  can  well  imagine  that 
during  all  the  time  that  the  Tigris  and  the  Euphrates 
have  flowed  from  the  summits  of  the  Armenian  moun- 
tains,1 one  may  suppose  the  whole  of  the  water  of  the 
ocean  to  have  passed  a  great  many  times  through  their 
mouths.  Or  do  you  not  believe  that  the  Nile  has  dis- 
charged more  water  into  the  sea  than  is  at  present  con- 
tained in  all  the  watery  elerrent?  Surely  this  is  the 
case !  If  then  this  water  had  fallen  away  from  this  body 
of  the  earth,  the  whole  mechanism  would  long  since  have 
been  without  water.  So,  therefore,  one  may  conclude 
that  the  water  passes  from  the  rivers  to  the  sea,  and  from 
the  sea  to  the  rivers,  ever  making  the  self-same  round, 
and  that  all  the  sea  and  the  rivers  have  passed  through 
the  mouth  of  the  Nile  an  infinite  number  of  times. 

(A  56  r.  and  zr.) 
WHAT    CAUSES    THE     EDDIES    OF   WATER 

All  the  movements  of  the  wind  resemble  those  of  the 
water. 

Universally  all  things  desire  to  maintain  themselves  in 
their  natural  state.  So  moving  water  strives  to  main- 
tain the  course  pursuant  to  the  power  which  occasions  it, 
and  if  it  finds  an  obstacle  in  its  path,  it  completes  the 
span  of  the  course  it  has  o&mmenced  by  a  circular  and 
revolving  movement. 

So  when  water  pours  out  of  a  narrow  channel  and 
descends  with  fury  into  the  slow-moving  currents  of 

1  Text  is  not  *  de  monti  eruini  *  as  in  M,  Ravaisson-Mollien's  transcript, 
but '  dc  mOti  ermjnj  *  (de  monti  ermini)  as  given  by  Dr.  Richter. 

G 


98  OF  THE  EDDIES  OF  WATER 

mighty  seas,  since  in  the  greater  bulk  there  is  greater 
power,  and  greater  power  offers  resistance  to  the  lesser, 
in  this  case,  the  water  descending  upon  the  sea  beats  down 
upon  its  slow-moving  mass,  and  this  cannot  make  a  pkce 
for  it  with  sufficient  speed,  because  it  is  held  up  by  the 
rest  of  the  water ;  and  so  the  water  that  descends,  not 
being  willing  to  slacken  its  course,  turns  round  after  it 
has  struck,  and  continues  its  first  movement  in  circling 
eddies,  and  so  fulfils  its  desire  down  in  the  depth  ;  for  in 
these  same  eddies  it  finds  nothing  more  than  its  own 
movement,  which  is  attended  by  a  succession  of  circles, 
one  within  the  other ;  and  by  thus  revolving  in  circles, 
its  course  becomes  longer  and  more  continuous,  because 
it  meets  with  no  obstacle  except  itself;  and  this  motion 
eats  away  and  consumes  the  banks,  and  they  fall  head- 
long in  ruin.  ...  (^60  r.) 

OF  WAVES 

The  wave  is  the  recoil  of  the  stroke,  and  it  will  be 
greater  or  less  in  proportion  as  the  stroke  itself  is  greater 
or  less.  A  wave  is  never  found  alone,  but  is  mingled 
with  as  many  other  waves  as  there  are  uneven  places  in  the 
object  where  the  said  wave  is  produced.  At  one  and  the 
same  time  there  will  be  moving  over  the  greatest  wave 
of  a  sea  innumerable  other  waves  proceeding  in  different 
directions.  If  you  throw  a  stone  into  a  sea  with  various 
shores,  all  the  waves  which  strike  against  these  shores 
are  thrown  back  towards  where  the  stone  has  struck,  and 
on  meeting  others  advancing,  they  never  interrupt  each 
other's  course.  Waves  of  equal  volume,  velocity,  and 
power,  when  they  encounter  each  other  in  opposing 


OF  WAVES  99 

motion,  recoil  at  equal  angles,  the  one  from  the  stroke 
of  the  other.  That  wave  will  be  of  greater  elevation 
which  is  created  by  the  greater  stroke,  and  the  same  is 
true  of  the  converse.  The  wave  produced  in  small  tracts 
of  water  will  go  and  return  many  times  from  the  spot 
which  has  been  struck.  The  wave  goes  and  returns  so 
many  more  tinies  in  proportion  as  the  sea  which  produces 
it  contains  a  less  quantity  of  water,  and  so  conversely. 
Only  on  the  high  sea  do  the  waves  advance  without  ever 
turning  in  recoil.  In  lesser  tracts  of  water  the  same  stroke 
gives  birth  to  many  motions  of  advance  and  recoil. 
The  greatest  wave  is  covered  with  innumerable  other 
waves  moving  in  different  directions ;  and  these  have  a 
greater  or  less  depth  as  they  are  occasioned  by  a  greater 
or  less  power.  The  greatest  wave  is  covered  with  various 
waves,  which  move  in  as  many  different  directions  as 
there  were  different  places  from  which  they  separated 
themselves.  The  same  wave  produced  within  a  small  tract 
of  water  has  a  greater  number  of  other  waves  proceeding 
over  itself,  in  proportion  to  the  greater  strength  of  its 
stroke  and  recoil  from  the  opposite  shores.  Greater  is 
the  motion  of  the  wave  than  that  of  the  water  of  which  it 
is  composed.  Many  waves  turned  in  different  directions 
can  be  created  between  the  surface  and  the  bottom  of  the 
same  body  of  water  at  the  same  time.  The  eddying  move- 
ments can  accompany  the  direct  movements  of  each  wave. 
All  the  impressions  caused  by  things  striking  upon 
the  water  can  penetrate  one  another  without  being 
destroyed.  One  wave  never  penetrates  another;  but 
they  only  recoil  from  the  spot  where  they  strike. 

(C.  A.  84  v.  «,) 


ioo  OF  THE  EARTH'S  INCREASE 

INSTANCES   AND    DEDUCTIONS   AS   TO   THE    EARTH*S 
INCREASE 

Take  a  vase,  fill  it  full  of  pure  earth,  and  set  it  up  on 
a  roof.  You  will  see  how  immediately  the  green  herbs 
will  begin  to  shoot  up,  and  how  these,  when  fully  grown, 
will  cast  their  various  seeds  ;  and  after  the  children  have 
thus  fallen  at  the  feet  of  their  parents,  you  will  see  the 
herbs,  having  cast  their  seeds,  becoming  withered  and 
falling  back  again  to  the  earth,  and  within  a  short  time 
becoming  changed  into  the  earth's  substance  and  giving 
it  increase  ;  after  this  you  will  see  the  seeds  springing  up 
and  passing  through  the  same  course,  and  so  you  will 
always  see  the  successive  generations  after  completing 
their  natural  course,  by  their  death  and  corruption  giving 
increase  to  the  earth.  And  if  you  let  ten  years  elapse 
and  then  measure  the  increase  in  the  soil,  you  will  be 
able  to  discover  how  much  the  earth  in  general  has  in- 
creased, and  then  by  multiplying  you  will  see  how  great 
has  been  the  increase  of  the  earth  in  the  world  during  a 
thousand  years.  Some  may  say  that  this  instance  of  the 
vase  which  I  have  mentioned  does  not  justify  the  deduc- 
tion based  upon  it,  because  one  sees  in  the  case  of  these 
vases,  that  for  the  prize  of  the  flowers  that  are  looked 
for,  a  part  of  the  soil  is  frequently  taken  away,  and  its 
place  is  filled  up  with  new  rich  soil ;  and  I  reply  to  them 
that  as  the  soil  which  is  added  there  is  a  blend  of  rich  fat 
substances  and  broken  bits  of  all  sorts  of  things,  it  cannot 
be  said  to  be  pure  earth,  and  this  mass  of  substances, 
decaying,  and  so  losing  in  part  their  shape,  becomes 
changed  into  a  rich  ooze,  which  feeds  the  roots  of  the 


OF  THE  SALT  OF  THE  SEA  ici 

plants  above  them  ;  and  this  is  the  reason  why  it  may 
appear  to  you  that  the  earth  is  lessened ;  but  if  you 
allow  the  plants  that  grow  in  it  to  die,  and  their  seeds  to 
spring  up,  then  in  time  you  will  behold  its  increase. 

For  do  you  not  perceive  how,  among  the  high  moun- 
tains, the  walls  of  ancient  and  ruined  cities  are  being 
covered  over  and  concealed  by  the  earth's  increase  ? 

Nay,  have  you  not  seen  how,  on  the  rocky  summits 
of  the  mountains,  the  live  stone  itself  has  in  course  of 
time  swallowed  up  by  its  growth  some  column  which  it 
supported,  and  stripping  it  bare  as  with  shears,  and 
grasping  it  tightly,  has  left  the  impress  of  its  fluted  form 
in  the  living  rock  ?  (C.  A.  265  r.  A) 

The  water  wears  away  the  mountains  and  fills  up  the 
valleys,  and  if  it  had  the  power,  it  would  reduce  the 
earth  to  a  perfect  sphere.  (C,  A.  185  v.  <r.) 

If  a  drop  of  water  falls  into  the  sea  when  it  is  calm, 
it  must  of  necessity  be  that  the  whole  surface  of  the  sea 
is  raised  imperceptibly,  seeing  that  water  cannot  be  com- 
pressed within  itself,  like  air.  (C.  A.  20  r.  //.) 

WHY    WATER    IS    SALT 

Pliny  says  in  his  second  book,  in  the  hundred  and 
third  chapter,  that  the  water  of  the  sea  is  salt  because 
the  heat  of  the  sun  scorches  and  dries  up  the  moisture 
and  sucks  it  up  and  thereby  greatly  increases  the  salt 
savour  of  the  sea. 

But  this  cannot  be  admitted  because,  if  the  saltness 


io2  OF  THE  SALT  OF  THE  SEA 

of  the  sea  were  caused  by  the  heat  of  the  sun,  there  is  no 
doubt  that  the  lakes  and  pools  and  marshes  would  be  more 
salt  in  proportion  as  their  waters  have  less  movement  and 
depth,  but  on  the  contrary  experience  shows  us  that  the 
waters  of  these  marshes  are  entirely  free  from  saltness. 
It  is  also  stated  by  Pliny,  in  the  same  chapter,  that  this 
saltness  might  arise  because,  after  the  subtraction  of 
every  sweet  and  tenuous  portion  such  as  the  heat  readily 
draws  to  itself,  the  more  bitter  and  coarser  portion  will 
be  left  behind,  and  in  consequence  the  water  on  the 
surface  is  sweeter  than  that  at  the  bottom.  But  this  is 
contradicted  by  the  reasons  given  above,  whence  it  follows 
that  the  same  thing  would  happen  with  marshes  and 
other  tracts  of  water  which  become  dried  up  by  the  heat. 
It  has  also  been  said  that  the  saltness  of  the  sea  is  the 
sweat  of  the  earth,  but  to  this  we  may  reply  that  then 
all  the  springs  of  water  which  penetrate  through  the 
earth  would  be  salt.  The  conclusion,  therefore,  is  that 
the  saltness  of  the  sea  is  due  to  the  numerous  springs  of 
water,  which, -in  penetrating  the  earth,  find  the  salt 
mines,  and  dissolving  parts  of  these  carr^  them  away  with 
.them  to  the  ocean  and  to  the  other  seas,  from  whence 
they  are  never  lifted*  by  the  clouds  which  produce  the 
rivers.  So  the  sea  would  be  more  salt  in  our  times  than 
it  has  ever  been  at  any  time  previously  ;  and  if  it  were 
argued  by  the  adversary  that  in  an  infinite  course  of 
time  the  sea  would  either  become  dried  up  or  congealed 
into  salt,  to  this  I  reply  that  the  salt  is  restored  to  the 
earth  by  the  setting  free  of  the  earth  which  is  raised  up 
together  with  the  salt  it  has  acquired,  and  the  riwrs  restore 
it  to  the  earth  over  which  they  flow-  (G  -48  ?.} 


OF  THE  ACTION  OF  WATER  103 

If  a  stone  is  thrown  into  still  water  it  will  form  circles 
equidistant  from  their  centre  ;  but  if  into  a  moving  river 
the  circles  formed  will  lengthen  out  and  be  almost  oval 
in  shape,  and  will  travel  on  together  with  their  centre 
away  from  the  spot  where  it  was  first  made,  following 
the  course  of  the  [stream]  ...  (787  [39]  r.) 

Water  will  leap  up  far  higher  than  it  has  fallen,  through 
the  violent  movement  caused  by  the  air  which  finds  itself 
shut  in  within  the  bubbles  of  the  water,  and  which  after- 
wards rises  and  floats  like  bells  upon  the  surface  of  the 
water.  Returning  to  the  place  where  it  strikes,  the 
water  is  again  submerged  by  the  blow,  so  that  the  air 
finds  itself  hemmed  in  between  the  water  which  drives 
it  down  and  that  which  encounters  it,  and  being  pressed 
upon  with  such  fury  and  violence,  suddenly  bursts  through 
the  water  which  serves  it  as  a  covering,  and,  like  a 
thunderbolt  emerging  from  the  clouds,  so  this  air  emerges 
from  the  water,  carrying  with  it  a  part  of  the  water1 
which  previously  formed  its  covering.  (/  69  [21]  #.) 

THE  DESTRUCTION  OF  MARSHES  WILL  BE  BROU    IT  ABOUT 
WHEN"  TURBID  RIVERS  FLOW  INTO  THEM 

This  is  proved  by  the ,  fact  that  where  the  river  flows 
swiftly  it  washes  away  the  soil,  and  where  it  delays  there 
it  leaves  its  deposit,  and  both  for  this  reason,  and  because 
water  never  travels  so  slowly  in  rivers  as  it  does  in  the 
marshes  of  the  valleys,  the  movement  of  the  waters  there 
is  imperceptible.  But  in  these  marshes  the  river  has  to 
enter  through  a  low,  narrow,  winding  channel,  and  it  hsfc 

1  MS.  has  'aria,*  air. 


io4  OF  THE  EARTH'S  SURFACE 

to  flow  out  over  a  large  area  of  but  little  depth ;  and 
this  is  necessary  because  the  water  flowing  in  the  river 
is  thicker  and  more  laden  with  earth  in  the  lower  than 
in  the  upper  part ;  and  the  sluggish  water  of  the  marshes 
also  is  the  same,  but  the  variation  between  the  lightness 
and  heaviness  of  the  upper  and  lower  waters  of  the 
marshes  far  exceeds  that  in  the  currents  of  rivers,  in 
which  the  lightness  of  the  upper  part  differs  but  little 
from  the  heaviness  of  the  part  below. 

So  the  conclusion  is  that  the  marsh  will  be  destroyed 
because  it  is  receiving  turbid  water  below,  while  above, 
on  the  opposite  side  of  the  same  marsh,  only  clear  water 
is  flowing  out ;  and,  consequently,  the  bed  of  the  marsh 
will  of  necessity  be  raised  by  means  of  the  soil  which  is 
being  continually  discharged  into  it.  (£  5  r.) 


OF    HOW    THE   SEA    CHANGES    THE    WEIGHT    OF 
THE    EARTH 

The  shells  of  oysters  and  other  similar  creatures  which 
are  born  in  the  mud  of  the  sea,  testify  to  us  of  the 
change  in  the  earth  round  the  centre  of  our  elements. 
This  is  proved  as  follows  : — the  mighty  rivers  always 
flow  turbid  because  of  the  earth  stirred  up  in  them 
through  the  friction  of  their  waters  upon  their  bed  and 
against  the  banks ;  and  this  process  of  destruction 
uncovers  the  tops  of  the  ridges  formed  by  the  layers  of 
these  shells,  which  are  embedded  in  the  mud  of  the  sea 
where  they  were  born  when  the  salt  waters  covered 
them*  And  these  same  ridges  were  from  time  to  time 
covered  over  by  varying  thicknesses  of  mud  which  had 


OF  THE  FLOOD  105 

been  brought  down  to  the  sea  by  the  rivers  In  floods  of 
varying  magnitude  ;  and  in  this  way  these  shells  remained 
walled  up  and  dead  beneath  this  mud,  which  became 
raised  to  such  a  height  that  the  bed  of  the  sea  emerged 
into  the  air.  And  now  these  beds  are  of  so  great  a 
height  that  they  have  become  hills  or  lofty  mountains, 
and  the  rivers,  which  wear  away  the  sides  of  these 
mountains,  lay  bare  the  strata  of  the  shells,  and  so  the 
light  surface  of  the  earth  is  continually  raised,  and 
the  antipodes  draw  nearer  to  the  centre  of  the  earth, 
and  the  ancient  beds  of  the  sea  become  chains  of 
mountains.  (£  4  ^.) 

DOUBT 

Here  a  doubt  arises,  and  that  is  as  to  whether  the 
Flood  which  came  in  the  time  of  Noah  was  universal 
or  not,  and  this  would  seem  not  to  have  been  the  case  for 
the  reasons  which  will  now  be  given.  We  have  it  in  the 
Bible  that  the  said  Flood  was  caused  by  forty  days  and 
forty  nights  of  continuous  and  universal  rain,  and  that 
this  rain  rose  ten  cubits  above  the  highest  mountain  in 
the  world.  But,  consequently,  if  it  had  been  the  case 
that  the  rain  was  universal,  it  would  have  formed  in 
itself  a  covering  around  our  globe  which  is  spherical 
in  shape  ;  and  a  sphere  has  every  part  of  its  circum- 
ference equally  distant  from  its  centre,  and  therefore,  on 
the  sphere  of  water  finding  itself  in  the  aforesaid  con- 
dition, it  becomes  impossible  for  the  water  on  its  surface 
to  move,  since  water  does  not  move  of  its  own  accord 
unless  to  descend.  How  then  did  the  waters  of  so  great 
a  Flood  depart  if  it  is  proved  that  they  had  no  power 


io6  OF  MARINE  SHELLS 

of  motion?  If  it  departed,  how  did  it  move,  unless  it 
went  upwards  ?  At  this  point  natural  causes  fail  us,  and 
therefore  in  order  to  resolve  such  a  doubt  we  must  needs 
either  call  in  a  miracle  to  our  aid  or  else  sajr  that  all  this 
water  was  evaporated  by  the  heat  of  the  sun. 


OF   THE    FLOOD    AND    OF    MARINE    SHELLS 

If  you  should  say  that  the  shells  which  are  visible  at  the 
present  time  within  the  borders  of  Italy,  far  away  from 
the  sea  and  at  great  heights,  are  due  to  the  Flood  having 
deposited  them  there,  I  reply  that,  granting  this  Flood  to 
have  risen  seven  cubits  above  the  highest  mountain,  as 
he  has  written  who  measured  it,  these  shells  which  always 
inhabit  near  the  shores  of  the  sea  ought  to  be  found 
lying  on  the  mountain  sides,  and  not  at  so  short  a 
distance  above  their  bases,  and  all  at  the  same  level, 
layer  upon  layer. 

Should  you  say  that  the  nature  of  these  shells  is  to 
keep  near  the  edge  of  the  sea,  and  that  as  the  sea  rose 
in  height  the  shells  left  their  former  place  and  followed 
the  rising  waters  up  to  their  highest  level : — to  this 
I  reply  that  the  cockle  is  a  creature  incapable  of  more 
rapid  movement  than  the  &fail  out  of  water,  or  is  even 
somewhat  slower,  since  it  does  not  swim,  but  makes 
a  furrow  in  the  sand,  and  supporting  itself  by  means  of 
the  sides  of  this  furrow  it  will  travel  between  three  and 
four  braccia  in  a  day ;  and  therefore  with  such  a  motion 
as  this  it  could  not  have  travelled  from  the  Adriatic  sea 
as  far  as  Monferrato  in'  Lombardy,  a  distance  of  two 


OF  MARINE  SHELLS  107 

hundred  and  fifty  miles  in  forty  days, — as  he  has  said 
who  kept  a  record  of  that  time* 

And  if  you  say  that  the  waves  carried  them  there — 
they  could  not  move  by  reason  of  their  weight  except 
upon  their  base.  And  if  you  do  not  grant  me  this,  at 
any  rate  allow  that  they  must  have  remained  on  the  tops 
of  the  highest  mountains,  and  in  the  lakes  which  are  shut 
in  among  the  mountains,  such  as  the  lake  of  Lario  or 
Como,  and  Lake  Maggiore,  and  that  of  Fiesole  and  of 
Perugia  and  others. 

If  you  should  say  that  the  shells  were  empty  and  dead 
when  carried  by  the  waves,  I  reply  that  where  the  dead 
ones  went  the  living  were  not  far  distant,  and  in  these 
mountains  are  found  all  living  ones,  for  they  are  known 
by  the  shells  being  in  pairs  and  by  their  being  in  a  row 
without  any  dead,  and  a  little  higher  up  is  the  place 
where  all  the  dead  with  their  shells  separated  have  been 
cast  up  by  the  waves,  near  where  the  rivers  plunged  in 
mighty  chasm  into  the  sea.  So  it  was  with  the  Arno, 
which  fell  from  the  Gonfolina  near  to  Monte  Lupo  and 
there  left  gravel  deposits,  which  deposits  are  still  to  be 
seen  welded  together  and  forming  one  concrete  mass  of 
various  kinds  of  stones  from  different  localities  and  of 
varying  colour  and  hardness.  And  a  little  further  on, 
where  the  river  turns  towards  Castel  Florentine,  the 
hardening  of  the  sand  has  formed  tufa  stone  ;  and  below 
this  it  has  deposited  the  mud  in  which  the  shells  lived ; 
and  the  mud  has  risen  by  degrees  as  the  floods  of  the 
Arno  poured  their  turbid  waters  into  this  sea.  So  from 
time  to  time  the  floor  of  the  sea  was  raised,  and  this 
caused  these  shells  to  be  in  layers. 


io8  OF  MARINE  SHELLS 

This  is  seen  in  the  cutting  of  Colle  Gonzoli,  which  has 
been  made  precipitous  by  the  action  of  the  Arno  wearing 
away  its  base,  in  which  cutting  the  aforesaid  layers  of 
shells  are  plainly  to  be  seen  in  the  bluish  clay,  and  there 
are  also  to  be  found  other  things  from  the  sea. 

(Leie.  8  b  [R  987]) 

As  for  those  who  say  that  the  shells  are  found  over 
a  wide  area  and  produced  at  a  distance  from  the  sea  by 
the  nature  of  the  locality  and  the  disposition  of  the 
heavens  which  moves  and  influences  the  place  to  such  a 
creation  of  animal  life, — to  them  it  may  be  answered 
that,  granted  such  an  influence  over  these  animals,  they 
could  not  happen  all  in  one  line,  save  in  the  case  of  those 
of  the  same  species  and  age  ;  and  not  one  old  and  another 
young,  one  with  an  outer  covering  and  another  without, 
one  broken  and  another  whole,  nor  one  filled  with  sea 
sand,  and  the  fragments  great  and  small  of  others  inside 
the  whole  shells  which  stand  gaping  open ;  nor  the  claws 
of  crabs  without  the  rest  of  their  bodies ;  nor  with  the 
shells  of  other  species  fastened  on  to  them,  like  animals 
crawling  over  them  and  leaving  the  mark  of  their  track 
on  the  outside  where  it  has  eaten  its  way  like  a  worm  in 
wood ;  nor  would  there  be  found  among  them  bones 
and  teeth  of  fish  which  some  call  arrows,  others  serpents' 
tongues ;  nor  would  so  many  parts  of  different  animals 
be  found  joined  together,  unless  they  had  been  thrown 
up  there  upon  the  borders  of  the  sea. 

And  the  Flood  could  not  have  carried  them  there, 
because  things  which  are  heavier  than  water  do  not  float 
high  in  the  water,  and  the  aforesaid  things  could  not  be 


OF  PETRIFIED  FISHES  109 

at  such  heights  unless  they  had  been  carried  there 
floating  on  the  waves,  and  that  is  impossible  on  account 
of  their  weight. 

Where  the  valleys  have  never  been  covered  by  the 
«alt  waters  of  the  sea,  there  the  shells  are  never  found. 

(Leic.  9  a  [R  988]) 

Since  things  are  far  more  ancient  than  letters,  it  is 
not  to  be  wondered  at  if  in  our  days  there  exists  no 
record  of  how  the  aforesaid  seas  extended  over  so  many 
countries  ;  and  if  moreover  such  record  ever  existed,  the 
wars,  the  conflagrations,  the  deluges  of  the  waters,  the 
changes  in  speech  and  habits  have  destroyed  every 
vestige  of  the  past.  But  sufficient  for  us  is  the  testimony 
of  things  produced  in  the  salt  waters  and  now  found 
again  in  the  high  mountains  far  from  the  seas. 

(Leic.  3 1  a  [R  984]) 

OF    THE    BONES  OF    FISHES    FOUND    IN    THOSE   THAT 
HAVE    BEEN    PETRIFIED 

All  the  creatures  that  have  their  bones  within  their 
skin,  on  being  covered  over  by  the  mud  from  the  in- 
undations of  rivers  which  have  left  their  accustomed  beds, 
are  at  once  enclosed  in  a  mould  by  this  mud.  And  so 
in  course  of  time  as  the  channels  of  the  rivers  become 
lower,  these  creatures  being  embedded  and  shut  in  within 
the  mud,  and  the  flesh  and  organs  being  worn  away  and 
only  the  bones  remaining,  while  even  these  have  lost 
their  natural  order  of  arrangement,  they  have  fallen 
down  into  the  base  of  the  mould  which  has  been  formed 
by  their  impress  ;  and  as  the  mud  becomes  lifted  above 
the  level  of  the  stream,  the  water  runs  away  so  that  it 


i  to  OF  SHELLS 

dries  and  becomes  first  a  sticky  paste  and  then  changes 
into  stone,  enclosing  whatsoever  it  finds  within  itself, 
and  itself  filling  up  every  cavity  ;  and  finding  the 
hollow  part  of  the  mould  formed  by  these  creatures,  it 
percolates  gradually  through  the  tiny  crevices  in  the 
earth  through  which  the  air  that  is  within  escapes  away, 
that  is  laterally,  for  it  cannot  escape  upwards  since  there 
the  crevices  are  filled  up  by  the  moisture  descending 
into  the  cavity,  nor  can  it  escape  downwards  because  the 
moisture  which  has  already  fallen  has  closed  up  the 
crevices.  There  remain  the  openings  at  the  side,  whence 
this  air,  condensed  and  pressed  down  upon  by  the 
moisture  which  descends,  escapes  with  the  same  slow  rate 
of  progress  as  that  of  the  moisture  which  descends  there ; 
and  this  paste  as  it  dries  becomes  stone  which  is  devoid 
of  weight,  and  preserves  the  exact  shapes  of  the  creatures 
which  have  there  made  the  mould,  and  encloses  their 
bones  within  it.  (F  79  *.} 

SHELLS   AND   THE    REASON    OF   THEIR   SHAPE 

The  creature  that  resides  within  the  shell  constructs 
its  dwelling  with  joints  and  seams  and  roofing  and  the 
other  various  parts,  just  as  man  does  in  the  house  in 
which  he  dwells ;  and  this  creature  expands  the  house 
and  roof  gradually  in  proportion  as  its  body  increases 
and  as  it  is  attached  to  the  sides  of  these  shells.     Conse- 
quently the  brightness  and  smoothness  which  these  shells 
possess  on  the  inner  side  is  somewhat  dulled  at  the  point 
where  they  are  attached  to  the  creature  that  dwells  there, 
and  the  hollow  of  it  is  roughened,  ready  to  receive  the 


OF  PETRIFACTION  in 

knitting  together  of  the  muscles  by  means  of  which  the 
creature  draws  itself  in  when  it  wishes  to  shut  itself  up 
within  its  house. 

When  nature  is  on  the  point  of  creating  stones,  it 
produces  a  kind  of  sticky  paste,  which,  as  it  dries,  forms 
itself  into  a  solid  mass  together  with  whatever  it  has 
enclosed  there,  which,  however,  it  does  not  change  into 
stone  but  preserves  within  itself  in  the  form  in  which  it 
has  found  them.  This  is  why  leaves  are  found  whole 
within  the  rocks  which  are  formed  at  the  bases  of  the 
mountains,  together  with  a  mixture  of  different  kinds  of 
things,  just  as  they  have  been  left  there  by  the  floods  from 
the  rivers  which  have  occurred  in  the  autumn  seasons ; 
and  there  the  mud  caused  by  the  successive  inundations 
has  covered  them  over,  and  then  this  mud  grows  into 
one  mass  together  with  the  aforesaid  paste,  and  becomes 
changed  into  successive  layers  of  stone  which  correspond 
with  the  layers  of  the  mud.  (F  80  r.) 

OF  CREATURES  WHICH  HAVE  THEIR  BONES  ON  THE 
OUTSIDE,  LIKE  COCKLES,  SNAILS,  OYSTERS,  SCOLLOPS, 
*  BOUOLI  '  AND  THE  LIKE,  WHICH  ARE  OF  INNUMER- 
ABLE KINDS 

When  the  floods  of  the  rivers  which  were  turbid  with 
fine  mud  deposited  this  upon  the  creatures  which  dwelt 
beneath  the  waters  near  the  ocean  borders,  these  creatures 
became  embedded  in  this  mud,  and  finding  themselves 
entirely  covered  under  a  great  weight  of  mud  they  were 
forced  to  perish  for  lack  of  a  supply  of  the  creatures  on 
which  they  were  accustomed  to  feed. 


ii2  OF  PETRIKACTiUJN 

In  course  of  time  the  level  of  the  sea  became  lower, 
and  as  the  salt  water  flowed  away  this  mud  became 
changed  into  stone  ;  and  such  of  these  shells  as  had  lost 
their  inhabitants  became  filled  up  in  their  stead  with 
mud  ;  and  consequently,  during  the  process  of  change  of 
all  the  surrounding  mud  into  stone,  this  mud  also  which 
was  within  the  frames  of  the  half-opened  shells,  since  by 
the  opening  of  the  shell  it  was  joined  to  the  rest  of  the 
mud,  became  also  itself  changed  into  stone  ;  and  there- 
fore all  the  frames  of  these  shells  were  left  between  two 
petrified  substances,  namely  that  which  surrounded  them 
and  that  which  they  enclosed. 

These  are  still  to  be  found  in  many  places,  and  almost 
all  the  petrified  shell  fish  in  the  rocks  of  the  mountains 
still  have  their  natural  frame  round  them,  and  especially 
those  which  were  of  a  sufficient  age  to  be  preserved  by 
reason  of  their  hardness,  while  the  younger  ones  which 
were  already  in  great  part  changed  into  chalk  were 
penetrated  by  the  viscous  and  petrifying  moisture. 


OF    SHELLS    IN    MOUNTAINS 

And  if  you  wish  to  say  that  the  shells  are  produced 
by  nature  in  these  mountains  by  means  of  the  influence 
of  the  stars,  in  what  way  will  you  show  that  this  influence 
produces  in  the  very  same  place  shells  of  various  sizes 
and  varying  in  age,  and  of  different  kinds  ? 

SHINGLE 

And  how  will  you  explain  to  me  the  fact  of  the  shingle 
being  all  stuck  together  and  lying  in  layers  at  different 


OF  PETRIFIED  THINGS  113 

altitudes  upon  the  high  mountains  ?  For  there  there  is 
to  be  found  shingle  from  divers  parts  carried  from 
various  countries  to  the  same  spot  by  the  rivers  in  their 
course ;  and  this  shingle  is  nothing  but  pieces  of  stone 
which  have  lost  their  sharp  edges  from  having  been  rolled 
over  and  over  for  a  long  time,  and  from  the  various 
blows  and  falls  which  they  have  met  with  during  the  pas- 
sage of  the  waters  which  have  brought  them  to  this  spot, 

LEAVES 

And  how  will  you  account  for  the  very  great  number 
of  different  kinds  of  leaves  embedded  in  the  high  rocks 
of  these  mountains,  and  for  the  altga^  the  seaweed,  which 
is  found  lying  intermingled  with  the  shells  and  the  sand  ? 
And  in  the  same  way  you  will  see  all  kinds  of  petrified 
things  together  with  ocean  crabs  broken  in  pieces  and 
separated,  and  mixed  with  their  shells.  (F  go  v.) 

WHAT    IS    FORCE  ? 

Force  I  define  as  an  incorporeal  agency,  an  invisible 
power,  which  by  means  of  unforeseen  external  pressure 
is  caused  by  the  movement  stored  up  and  diffused  within 
bodies  which  are  withheld  and  turned  aside  from  their 
natural  uses  ;  imparting  to  these  an  active  life  of  marvel- 
lous power,  it  constrains  all  created  things  to  change  of 
form  and  position,  and  hastens  furiously  to  its  desired 
death,  changing  as  it  goes  according  to  circumstances. 
When  it  is  slow  its  strength  is  increased,  and  speed 
enfeebles  it.  It  is  born  in  violence  and  dies  in  liberty  ; 
and  the  greater  it  is  the  more  quickly  it  is  consumed. 
It  drives  away  in  fury  whatever  opposes  its  destruction. 

H 


ti4  OF  FORCE 

It  desires  to  conquer  and  slay  the  cause  of  opposition, 
and  in  conquering  destroys  itself.  It  waxes  more  power- 
ful where  it  finds  the  greater  obstacle.  Everything 
instinctively  flees  from  death.  Everything  when  under 
constraint  itself  constrains  other  things.  Without  force 
nothing  moves.  The  body  in  which  it  is  born  neither 
grows  in  weight  nor  in  form.  None  of  the  movements 
that  it  makes  are  lasting.  It  increases  by  effort  and 
disappears  when  at  rest.  The  body  within  which  it  is 
confined  is  deprived  of  liberty.  Often  also  by  its  move- 
ment it  generates  new  force.  (A  34  *.) 

OF   WHAT    FORCE    IS 

Force  I  define  as  a  spiritual  power,  incorporeal  and 
invisible,  which  with  brief  life  is  produced  in  those  bodies 
which  as  the  result  of  accidental  violence  are  brought 
out  of  their  natural  state  and  condition. 

I  have  said  spiritual  because  in  this  force  there  is  an 
active,  incorporeal  life  ;  and  I  call  it  invisible  because  the 
body  in  which  it  is  created  does  not  increase  either  in 
weight  or  in  size ;  and  of  brief  duration  because  it  desires 
perpetually  to  subdue  its  cause,  and  when  this  is  subdued 
it  kills  itself.  (B  63  /•,) 

AGAINST    PERPETUAL   MOTION 

No  inanimate  object  will  move  of  its  own  accord ; 
consequently  when  in  motion  it  will  be  moved  by  unequal 
power,  unequal  that  is  in  time  and  velocity,  or  unequal  in 
weight ;  and  when  the  impulse  of  the  first  motive  power 
ceases  the  second  will  cease  abruptly,  (j  22  *.) 

Every  impression  is  preserved  for  a  time  in  its  sensi- 


OF  IMPRESSIONS  115 

tive  object ;  and  that  which  was  of  greater  power  will 
be  preserved  in  its  object  for  a  longer  time,  and  for  a 
shorter  time  with  the  less  powerful.  In  this  connection 
I  apply  the  term  sensitive  to  such  object  as  by  any 
impression  is  changed  from  that  which  was  at  first  an 
insensible  object; — that  is  one  which,  while  changing 
from  its  first  state,  preserves  within  itself  no  impression 
of  the  thing  which  has  moved  it.  The  sensible  im- 
pression is  that  of  a  blow  received  upon  a  resounding 
substance,  such  as  bells  and  such  like  things,  or  like  the 
note  in  the  ear,  which,  indeed,  unless  it  preserved  the 
impression  of  the  notes,  could  never  derive  pleasure  from 
hearing  a  voice  alone  ;  for  when  it  passes  immediately 
from  the  first  to  the  fifth  note,  the  effect  is  as  though 
one  heard  these  two  notes  at  the  same  time,  and  thus 
perceived  the  true  harmony  which  the  first  makes  with 
the  fifth  ;  but  if  the  impression  of  the  first  note  did  not 
remain  in  the  ear  for  an  appreciable  space  of  time,  the 
fifth,  which  follows  immediately  after  the  first,  would 
seem  alone,  and  one  note  cannot  create  any  harmony, 
and  consequently  any  song  whatsoever  occurring  alone 
would  seem  to  be  devoid  of  charm. 

So,  too,  the  radiance  of  the  sun  or  other  luminous 
body  remains  in  the  eye  for  some  time  after  it  has  been 
seen  ;  and  the  motion  of  a  single  firebrand  whirled 
rapidly  in  a  circle  causes  this  circle  to  seem  one  con- 
tinuous and  uniform  flame. 

The  drops  of  rain  water  seem  continuous  threads 
descending  from  their  clouds  ;  and  so  herein  one  may 
see  how  the  eye  preserves  the  impressions  of  the  moving 
things  which  it  sees. 


n6  OF  IMPRESSIONS 

The  insensible  objects  which  do  not  preserve  the 
impressions  of  the  things  which  are  opposite  to  them 
are  mirrors,  and  any  polished  substance  which,  so  soon 
as  ever  the  thing  of  whiclj  it  bears  the  impression  is 
removed  from  before  it,  becomes  at  once  entirely 
deprived  of  that  impression.  We  may,  therefore,  con- 
clude that  it  is  the  action  of  the  mover  pressing  against 
the  body  moved  by  it  which  moves  this  body  in  the 
direction  in  which  it  moves* 

Amongst  the  cases  of  impressions  being  preserved  in 
various  bodies  we  may  also  instance  the  wave,  the  eddies 
of  the  water,  the  winds  in  the  air,  and  a  knife  stuck 
into  a  table,  which,  on  being  bent  in  one  direction  and 
then  released,  retains  for  a  long  time  a  quivering  move- 
ment, all  its  movements  being  reciprocal  one  of  another, 
and  all  may  be  said  to  be  approaching  towards  the 
perpendicular  of  the  surface  where  the  knife  is  fixed 
by  its  point. 

The  voice  impresses  itself  through  the  air  without 
displacement  of  air,  and  strikes  upon  the  objects  and 
returns  back  to  its  source. 

The  concussion  of  liquid  bodies  with  solid  is  of  a 
different  character  to  the  above-mentioned  cases  of  con- 
cussion ;  and  the  concussion  of  liquid  with  liquid  also 
varies  from  the  foregoing. 

Of  the  concussion  of  solid  with  liquid  there  is  seen  an 
example  in  the  shores  of  the  ocean,  which  receive  the 
waters  full  on  their  rocks  and  hurl  them  against  the 
steep  crags  ;  and  oftentimes  it  happens  that  before  the 
course  of  the  wave  is  half  completed,  the  stones  carried 
by  it  return  to  the  sea  from  whence  they  came ;  and  their 


OF  THE  PUPIL  OF  THE  EYE  117 

power  of  destruction  is  increased  by  the  might  of  the 
wave  which  falls  back  from  the  lofty  cliffs. 

(C.  A.  360  r.  a.) 

Seeing  that  the  images  of  the  objects  are  all  spread 
throughout  all  the  air  which  surrounds  them,  and  are  all 
in  every  point  of  the  same,  it  must  be  that  the  images 
of  our  hemisphere  enter  and  pass  together  with  those  of 
all  the  heavenly  bodies  through  the  natural  point,  in 
which  they  merge  and  become  united  by  mutually  pene- 
trating and  intersecting  each  other,  whereby  the  image 
of  the  moon  in  the  east  and  the  image  of  the  sun  in 
the  west  at  this  natural  point  become  united  and  blended 
together  with  our  hemisphere. 

O  marvellous  Necessity,  thou  with  supreme  reason 
constrainest  all  effects  to  be  the  direct  result  of  their 
causes,  and  by  a  supreme  and  irrevocable  law  every 
natural  action  obeys  thee  by  the  shortest  possible 
process  ! 

Who  would  believe  that  so  small  a  space  could  contain 
the  images  of  all  the  universe  ?  O  mighty  process ! 
What  talent  can  avail  to  penetrate  a  nature  such  as 
thine  ?  What  tongue  will  it  be  that  can  unfold  so  great 
a  wonder  ?  Verily,  none !  This  it  is  that  guides  the 
human  discourse  to  the  considering  of  divine  things. 

Here  the  figures,  here  the  colours,  here  all  the  images 
of  every  part  of  the  universe  are  contracted  to  a  point* 

O  what  point  is  so  marvellous  ! 

O  wonderful,  O  stupendous  Necessity,  thou  by  thy 
law  constrainest  all  effects  to  issue  from  their  causes  in 


n8  OF  THE  NATURE  OF  SIGHT 

the  briefest  possible  way !  These  are  the  miracles,  .  .  . 
forms  already  lost,  mingled  together  in  so  small  a  space, 
it  can  recreate  and  reconstitute  by  its  dilation. 

How  it  may  be  that  from  indistinct  causes  there  may 
issue  effects  manifest  and  immediate,  as  are  the  images 
which  have  passed  through  the  aforesaid  natural  point. 

Write  in  thy  Anatomy  what  proportion  there  is  be- 
tween the  diameters  of  all  the  lenses  of  the  eye,  and 
the  distance  from  these  to  the  crystalline  lens. 

(C.  A.  345  v.  &.) 

OF   THE    NATURE    OF    SIGHT 

I  say  that  sight  is  exercised  by  all  animals  through 
the  medium  of  light ;  and  if  against  this  any  one  should 
instance  the  sight  of  nocturnal  animals,  I  would  say  that 
these  in  exactly  the  same  way  are  subject  to  the  same 
law  of  nature.  For,  as  one  may  readily  understand,  the 
senses,  when  they  receive  the  images  of  things,  do  not 
send  forth  from  themselves  any  actual  power  ;  but  on 
the  contrary  the  air  which  is  between  the  object  and  the 
sense,  serving  as  a  medium,  incorporates  within  itself 
the  images  of  things,  and  by  its  own  contact  with  the 
sense  presents  them  to  it,  if  the  objects  either  by  sound 
or  smell  project  themselves  to  the  eye  or  the  nose  by 
virtue  of  their  incorporeal  powers*  Here  the  light  is 
not  necessary,  nor  is  it  made  use  of.  The  forms  of 
objects  do  not  enter  into  the  air  as  images  unless  they 
are  luminous ;  this  being  so,  the  eye  cannot  receive  the 
same  from  that  air  which  does  not  contain  them,  but  only 


OF  THE  EYE  119 

touches  their  surface.  If  you  wish  to  speak  of  the  many 
animals  which  hunt  their  prey  by  night,  I  answer  that 
when  that  small  amount  of  light  sufficient  for  them  to  see 
their  way  fails  them,  they  avail  themselves  of  their  powers 
of  hearing  and  smell,  which  are  not  impeded  by  the 
darkness,  and  in  which  they  are  far  in  advance  of  man. 
If  you  watch  a  cat  in  the  day-time  leaping  among  a  lot 
of  pieces  of  crockery  you  will  see  that  these  will  remain 
whole  ;  but  if  it  does  the  same  by  night  it  will  break  a 
considerable  number.  Night  birds  do  not  fly  unless  the 
moon  is  shining  either  full  or  in  part,  but  their  time  of 
feeding  is  between  the  hour  of  sunset  and  the  total  dark- 
ness of  the  night. 

No  substance  can  be  comprehended  without  light  and 
shade  ;  light  and  shade  are  caused  by  light. 

(C.  A.  90  r.  b.} 

OF   THE    EYE 

Since  the  eye  is  the  window  of  the  soul,  the  latter 
is  always  in  fear  of  being  deprived  of  it,  to  such  an 
extent  that  when  anything  moves  in  front  of  it  which 
causes  a  man  sudden  fear,  he  does  not  use  his  hands  to 
protect  his  heart,  which  supplies  life  to  the  head  where 
dwells  the  lord  of  the  senses,  nor  his  hearing,  nor  sense 
of  smell  or  taste ;  but  immediately  the  affrighted  sense, 
not  contented  with  shutting  the  eyes  and  pressing  their 
lids  together  with  the  utmost  force,  causes  him  to  turn 
suddenly  in  the  opposite  direction ;  and  not  as  yet 
feeling  secure  he  covers  them  with  the  one  hand  and 
stretches  out  the  other  to  form  a  screen  against  the 
object  of  his  fean  (C.  A.  119  v.  a.) 


120  OF  THE  EYE 

The  eye,  which  is  used  to  the  darkness,  on  suddenly 
beholding  the  light  is  hurt  and  therefore  closes  quickly, 
being  unable  to  endure  the  light.  This  is  due  to  the 
fact  that  the  pupil  in  order  to  recognise  any  object  in 
the  darkness  to  which  it  has  grown  accustomed,  increases 
in  size,  employing  all  its  force  to  transmit  to  the  re- 
ceptive part  the  image  of  things  in  shadow.  And  the 
light,  suddenly  penetrating,  causes  too  large  a  part  of 
the  pupil  which  was  in  darkness  to  be  hurt  by  the 
radiance  which  bursts  in  upon  it,  this  being  the  exact 
opposite  of  the  darkness  to  which  the  eye  has  already 
grown  accustomed  and  habituated,  and  which  seeks  to 
maintain  itself  there,  and  will  not  quit  its  hold  without 
inflicting  injury  upon  the  eye. 

One  might  also  say  that  the  pain  caused  to  the  eye 
when  in  shadow  by  the  sudden  light  arises  from  the 
sudden  contraction  of  the  pupil,  which  does  not  occur 
except  as  the  result  of  the  sudden  contact  and  friction  of 
the  sensitive  parts  of  the  eye.  If  you  would  see  an 
instance  of  this,  observe  and  note  carefully  the  size  of 
the  pupil  when  any  one  is  looking  at  a  dark  place,  and 
then  cause  a  candle  to  be  brought  before  it,  and  make 
it  rapidly  approach  the  eye,  and  you  will  see  an  in- 
stantaneous contraction  of  the  pupil.  (C  16  r.) 

OF    BODILY    MOVEMENTS 

I  say  that  the  note  of  the  echo  is  cast  back  to  the  ear 
after  it  has  struck,  just  as  the  images  of  objects  strike 
the  mirror  and  are  thence  reflected  to  the  eye.  And  in 
the  same  way  as  these  images  fall  from  the  object  to  the 
mirror  and  from  the  mirror  to  the  eye  at  equal  angles,  so 


OE  THE  EYE  121 

the  note  of  the  echo  will  strike  and  rebound  within  the 
hollow  where  it  has  first  struck  at  equal  angles  to  the  ear. 

(C  1 6  r.) 

If  the  darkness  of  the  night  is  a  hundred  degrees 
more  intense  than  that  of  the  evening,  and  the  eye  of 
the  man  doubles  the  size  of  its  pupil  in  the  darkness, 
then  the  darkness  is  halved  to  the  eye,  since  its  power  of 
vision  has  doubled  the  half;  there  remain,  therefore, 
fifty  degrees  of  intensity  of  darkness. 

And  if  in  the  said  darkness  the  eye  of  the  owl  expands 
its  pupil  a  hundred  times,  the  power  of  vision  increases 
a  hundred  fold,  so  that  a  hundred  degrees  of  power  of 
vision  are  acquired  ;  and  since  things  which  are  the 
equal  of  each  other  do  not  exceed  each  other,  the  bird 
sees  in  the  darkness  with  the  pupil  increased  a  hundred- 
fold just  as  in  the  day  when  the  pupil  is  less  by  ninety- 
nine  hundredths. 

And  if  you  should  say  that  this  creature  cannot  see 
light  by  day  and  for  this  reason  remains  in  concealment, 
the  answer  to  this  is  that  the  bird  only  conceals  itself  by 
day  in  order  to  escape  from  the  crowd  of  the  birds  who 
are  continually  flocking  round  it  in  great  numbers  with  a 
loud  clamour,  and  very  often  they  would  lose  their  lives 
if  they  did  not  hide  themselves  in  the  grottoes  and 
caverns  of  the  high  rocks. 

Of  the  nocturnal  animals  only  in  the  lion  tribe  does 
the  pupil  alter  its  shape  as  it  grows  larger  or  smaller ; 
for  when  it  is  at  the  limit  of  its  contraction  it  is  long  in 
form,  when  it  is  at  the  middle  it  is  oval,  and  when  it 

reaches  its  utmost  expansion  it  is  circular. 

(C.  A.  262  r.  d) 


122  OF  THE  NATURE  OF  SIGHT 

I  say  that  the  power  of  vision  extends  by  means  of  the 
visual  rays  as  far  as  the  surface  of  bodies  which  are  not 
transparent,  and  that  the  power  possessed  by  these  bodies 
extends  up  to  the  power  of  vision,  and  that  every  similar 
body  fills  all  the  surrounding  air  with  its  image.  Each 
body  separately  and  all  together  do  the  same,  and  not 
only  do  they  fill  it  with  the  likeness  of  their  shape,  but 
also  with  that  of  their  power. 

EXAMPLE 

You  see  with  the  sun  when  it  is  at  the  centre  of  our 
hemisphere,  how  there  are  the  images  of  its  form  in  all 
the  parts  where  it  reveals  itself,  and  you  see  how  in  all 
those  same  places  there  are  also  the  images  of  its  radiance, 
and  to  these  must  also  be  added  the  image  of  the  power 
of  its  heat ;  and  all  these  powers  proceed  from  the  same 
source  by  means  of  radiant  lines  which  issue  from  its 
body  and  end  in  the  opaque  objects  without  its  thereby 
undergoing  any  diminution. 

The  north  star  remains  continually  with  the  images  of 
its  power  spread  out,  and  becoming  incorporated  not  only 
in  thin  but  in  thick  bodies,  in  those  transparent  and  those 
opaque,  but  it  does  not  on  this  account  suffer  any  loss 
of  its  shape. 

CONFUTATION 

Those  mathematicians,  then,  who  say  that  the  eye  has 
no  spiritual  power  which  extends  to  a  distance  from 
itself,  since,  if  it  were  so,  it  could  not  be  without  great 
diminution  in  the  use  of  the  power  of  vision,  and  that 
though  the  eye  were  as  great  as  the  body  of  the  earth 


OF  PROJECTED  POWER  123 

it  would  of  necessity  be  consumed  in  beholding  the 
stars  ;  and  for  this  reason  they  maintain  that  the  eye 
takes  in  but  does  not  send  forth  anything  from  itself, — 

EXAMPLE 

What  will  these  say  of  the  musk  which  always  keeps 
a  great  quantity  of  the  atmosphere  charged  with  its 
odour,  and  which,  if  it  be  carried  a  thousand  miles,  will 
permeate  a  thousand  miles  with  that  thickness  of  atmo- 
sphere without  any  diminution  of  itself? 

Or  will  they  say  that  the  sound i  which  the  bell  makes 
on  its  contact  with  the  clapper,  which  daily  of  itself 
fills  the  whole  countryside  with  its  sound,  must  of 
necessity  consume  this  bell  ? 

Certainly,  it  seems  to  me,  there  are  such  men  as  these 
— and  that  is  all  that  need  be  said  of  them. 

EXAMPLES 

Is  not  that  snake  called  lamia  seen  daily  by  the  rustics 
attracting  to  itself  with  fixed  gaze,  as  the  magnet  attracts 
iron,  the  nightingale,  which  with  mournful  song  hastens 
to  her  death  ? 

It  is  said  also  that  the  wolf  has  power  by  its  look  to 
cause  men  to  have  hoarse  voices. 

The  basilisk  is  said  to  have  the  power  by  its  glance  to 
deprive  of  life  every  living  thing. 

The  ostrich  and  the  spider  are  said  to  hatch  their  eggs 
by  looking  at  them. 

Maidens  are  said  to  have  power  in  their  eyes  to  attract 
to  themselves  the  love  of  men. 

The  fish  called  linno,  which  some  name  after  S.  Ermo, 


i24  OF  LANDSCAPE  AT  NOON 

which  is  found  off  the  coasts  of  Sardinia, — is  it  not  seen 
at  night  by  the  fishermen  shedding  light  with  its  eyes 
over  a  great  quantity  of  water — as  though  they  were  two 
candles?  And  all  those  fishes,  which  come  within  the 
compass  of  this  radiance,  immediately  come  up  to  the 
surface  of  the  water  and  turn  over,  dead.  (C.  A.  270  ?.  c.) 

Landscapes  are  of  a  more  beautiful  azure  when  in  fine 
weather  the  sun  is  at  noon  than  at  any  other  hour  of  the 
day,  because  the  atmosphere  is  free  from  moisture  ;  and 
viewing  them  under  such  conditions,  ycu  see  the  trees  of 
a  beautiful  green  at  their  extremities,  and  the  shadows 
dark  towards  the  centre ;  and  in  the  further  distance  the 
atmosphere,  which  is  interposed  between  you  and  them, 
appears  more   beautiful  when  beyond  it  there  is  some 
darker  substance,  and  consequently  the  azure  is  most 
beautiful.     Objects  seen  from  that  side  on  which  the  sun 
is  shining  will  not  display  their  shadows  to  you.  "  But  if 
you  are  lower  than  the  sun,  you  will  see  what  was  not 
seen  by  the  sun,  and  that  will  be  all  in  shadow.     The 
leaves  of  the  trees  which  are  between  you  and  the  sun 
are  of  two  principal  colours,  namely,  a  most  beautiful 
vivid  green,  and  the  reflection  of  the  atmosphere,  which 
illumines  whatever  is  not  visible  to  the  sun,  and  the  parts 
in  shadow  which  only  face  the  earth,  and  the  darkest 
parts  which  are  surrounded  by  something  other  than 
darkness.      The   trees   by   the    countryside  which   are 
between  you  and  the  sun  are  far  more  beautiful  than 
those  in  respect  to  which  you  are  between  the  sun  and 
them,  and  this  is  the  case  because  those  which  are  in  the 
same  direction  as  the  sun  show  their  leaves  transparent 


PLATE  i 


LANDSCAPh  WITH  CLOUD  EFFECT 


Face  p.  125 


OF  ATMOSPHERIC  EFFECTS  125 

towards  their  extremities,  and  such  as  are  not  transparent, 
that  is  at  the  tips,  reflect  the  light ;  and  the  shadows  are 
dark  because  they  are  not  covered  by  anything. 

The  trees,  when  you  place  yourself  between  them  and 
the  sun,  will  only  display  to  you  their  light  and  natural 
colour,  which  is  not  of  itself  very  conspicuous,  and 
besides  this,  certain  reflected  Iights3  which,  owing  to  their 
not  being  against  a  background  that  offers  a  strong 
contrast  to  their  brightness,  are  but  little  in  evidence  ; 
and  if  you  are  at  a  lower  altitude  than  these,  then  those 
parts  of  them  may  be  visible,  on  which  the  light  of  the 
sun  does  not  fall,  and  these  will  be  dark. 


IN    THE    WIND 


But  if  you  are  on  the  side  from  whence  the  wind  is 
blowing,  you  will  see  the  trees  look  much  lighter  than 
you  would  see  them  from  the  other  sides,  and  this  is  due 
to  the  fact  that  the  wind  turns  up  the  reverse  side  of  the 
leaves,  which  is  in  all  cases  much  paler  than  their  right 
side  ;  and  especially  will  they  be  very  light  if  the  wind 
blows  from  the  quarter  where  the  sun  happens  to  be,  and 
if  you  have  your  back  turned  to  it.  (#.  M.  26$,  Ar.  113  v.) 

I  have  long  had  the  opportunity  of  observing  many 
different  [atmospheric  effects],  and  once,  above  Milan, 
over  in  the  direction  of  Lake  Maggiore,  I  saw  a  cloud 
shaped  like  a  huge  mountain  made  up  of  banks  of  fire, 
because  the  rays  of  the  sun  which  was  then  setting  red 
on  the  horizon  had  dyed  it  with  their  colour.  This  great 
cloud  drew  to  itself  all  the  little  clouds  which  were 
round  about  it.  And  the  great  cloud  remained  stationary 


126  OF  SUN-RISE 

and  retained  the  light  of  the  sun  on  its  apex  for  an  hour 
and  a  half  after  sunset,  so  enormous  was  its  size.  And 
about  two  hours  after  night  had  fallen  there  arose  a 
stupendous  and  phenomenal  wind  storm. 

(Lfif.  28  a  [R  1021.]) 

At  the  first  hour  of  the  day  the  atmosphere  in  the  south 
near  to  the  horizon  has  a  dim  haze  of  rose-flushed  clouds  ; 
towards  the  west  it  grows  darker,  and  towards  the  east 
the  damp  vapour  of  the  horizon  shows  brighter  than  the 
actual  horizon  itself,  and  the  white  of  the  houses  in  the  east 
is  scarcely  to  be  discerned,  while  in  the  south,  the  further 
distant  they  are,  the  more  they  assume  a  dark  rose-flushed 
hue,  and  even  more  so  in  the  west ;  and  with  the  shadows 
it  is  the  contrary,  for  these  disappear  before  the  white. 

[.  .  .]  in  the  east,  and  the  tops  of  the  trees  are  more 
visible  than  tfteir  bases,  since  the  atmosphere  is  thicker 
lower  down,  and  the  structure  becomes  more  indistinct 
at  a  height. 

And  in  the  south,  the  trees  may  sc  -i-cly  be  distin- 
guished by  reason  of  the  vapour  which  urkens  in  the 
west  and  grows  clear  in  the  east.  (c.  A.  176  r.  b.} 

OF   THE    COLOUR    OF    THE    ATMOSPHERE 

I  say  that  the  blue  which  is  seen  in  the  atmosphere  is 
not  its  own  colour,  but  is  caused  by  the  heated  moisture 
having  evaporated  into  the  most  minute  imperceptible 
particles,  which  the  beams  of  the  solar  rays  attract  and 
cause  to  seem  luminous  against  the  deep  intense  dark- 
ness of  the  region  of  fire  that  forms  a  covering  above 
them.  And  this  may  be  seen,  as  I  myself  saw  it,  by 


AN  ASCENT  OF  MONTE  ROSA  127 

any  one  who  ascends  Monboso  (Monte  Rosa),  a  peak  of 
the  chain  of  Alps  that  divides  France  from  Italy,  at 
whose  base  spring  the  four  rivers  which  flow  as  many 
different  ways  and  water  all  Europe,  and  there  is  no 
other  mountain  that  has  its  base  at  so  great  an  elevation. 
This  mountain  towers  to  so  great  a  height,  as  almost  to 
pass  above  all  the  clouds  ;  and  snow  seldom  falls  there, 
but  only  hail  in  summer  when  the  clouds  are  at  their 
greatest  height ;  and  there  this  hail  accumulates,  so  that 
were  it  not  for  the  infrequency l  of  the  clouds  thus  rising 
and  discharging  themselves,  which  does  not  happen  twice 
in  an  age,  there  would  be  an  enormous  mass  of  ice  there, 
built  up  by  the  various  layers  of  the  hail ;  and  this  I 
found  very  thick  in  the  middle  of  July.  And  I  saw  the 
atmosphere  dark  overhead,  and  the  rays  of  the  sun 
striking  the  mountain  had  far  more  brightness  than  in 
the  plains  below,  because  less  thickness  of  atmosphere  lay 
between  the  summit  of  this  mountain  and  the  sun. 

As  a  further  example  of  the  colour  of  the  atmosphere, 
we  may  take  the  case  of  the  smoke  produced  by  old  dry 
wood,  for  as  it  comes  out  of  the  chimneys  it  seems  to  be 
a  pronounced  blue  when  seen  between  the  eye  and  a  dark 
space,  but  as  it  rises  higher  and  comes  between  the  eye 
and  the  luminous  atmosphere,  it  turns  immediately  to  an 
ashen  grey  hue,  and  this  comes  to  pass  because  it  no 
longer  has  darkness  beyond  it,  but  in  place  of  this  the 
luminous  atmosphere.  But  if  this  smoke  comes  from 
new  green  wood,  then  it  will  not  assume  a  blue  colour, 
because,  as  it  is  not  transparent,  and  is  heavily  charged 

1  MS.  has  *  reta,'  which  Dr,  Richter  reads  in  sense  of  *  malanno.'    I  have 
adopted  Dr.  Solmi's  suggestion  '  rarita.' 


128     OF  THE  COLOUR  OF  THE  ATMOSPHERE 

with  moisture,  it  will  have  the  effect  of  a  dense  cloud 
which  takes  definite  lights  and  shadows  as  though  it  were 
a  solid  body. 

The  same  is  true  of  the  atmosphere,  which  excessive 
moisture  renders  white,  while  litde  moisture  acted  upon 
by  heat  causes  it  to  be  dark  and  of  a  dark  blue  colour ; 
and  this  is  sufficient  as  regards  the  definition  of  the 
colour  of  the  atmosphere,  although  one  may  also  say  that 
if  the  atmosphere  had  this  transparent  blue  as  its  natural 
colour^  it  would  follow  that  wherever  a  greater  quantity 
of  atmosphere  came   between   the  eye    and   the   fiery 
element,  it  would  appear  of  a  deeper  shade  of  blue,  as  is 
seen  with  blue  glass  and  with  sapphires,  which  appear 
darker  in  proportion  as  they  are  thicker.     The  atmo- 
sphere, under  these  conditions,  acts  in  exactly  the  oppo- 
site way,  since  where  a  greater  quantity  of  it  comes 
between  the  eye  and  the  sphere  of  fire,  there  it  is  seen 
much  whiter,  and  this  happens  towards  the  horizon  ;  and 
in  proportion  as  a  lesser  amount  of  atmosphere  comes 
between  the  eye  and  the  sphere  of  fire,  of  so  much  the 
deeper  blue  does  it  appear,  even  when  we  are  in  the  low 
plains.     It  follows  therefore,  from  what  I  say,  that  the 
atmosphere  acquires  its  blueness  from  the  particles  of 
moisture  which  catch  the  luminous  rays  of  the  sun. 

We  may  also  observe  the  difference  between  the  atoms 
of  dust  and  those  of  the  smoke  seen  in  the  sun's  rays  as 
they  pass  through  the  chinks  of  the  walls  in  dark  rooms, 
that  the  one  seems  the  colour  of  ashes,  and  the  other- — 
the  thin  smoke — seems  of  a  most  beautiful  blue.  We 
may  see  also,  in  the  dark  shadows  of  mountains,  far  from 
the  eye>  that  the  atmosphere  which  is  between  the  eye 


OF  THE  COLOUR  OF  SMOKE        129 

and  these  shadows  will  appear  very  blue,  and  in  the  por- 
tion of  these  mountains  which  is  in  light,  it  will  not  vary 
much  from  its  first  colour. 

But  whoever  would  see  a  final  proof,  should  stain  a 
board  with  various  different  colours,  among  which  he 
should  include  a  very  strong  black,  and  then  over  them 
all  he  should  lay  a  thin,  transparent  white,  and  he  will 
then  perceive  that  the  lustre  of  the  white  will  nowhere 
display  a  more  beautiful  blue  than  over  the  black, — but 
it  must  be  very  thin  and  finely  ground. 

(Leu.  4  a  [R  300.]) 

When  the  smoke  from  dry  wood  comes  between  the 
eye  of  the  observer  and  some  dark  space  it  appears  blue. 
So  the  atmosphere  appears  blue  because  of  the  darkness 
which  is  beyond  it ;  and  if  you  look  towards  the  horizon 
of  the  sky,  you  will  see  that  the  atmosphere  is  not  blue, 
and  this  is  due  to  its  density ;  and  so  at  every  stage  as 
you  raise  your  eye  up  from  this  horizon  to  the  sky 
which  is  above  you,  you  will  find  that  the  atmosphere 
will  seem  darker,  and  this  is  because  a  lesser  quantity  of 
air  interposes  between  your  eye  and  this  darkness.  And 
if  you  are  on  the  top  of  a  high  mountain  the  atmosphere 
will  seem  darker  above  you  just  in  proportion  as  it 
becomes  rarer  between  you  and  the  said  darkness ;  and 
this  will  be  intensified  at  every  successive  stage  of  its 
height,  so  that  at  the  last  it  will  remain  dark. 

That  smoke  will  appear  the  bluest  which  proceeds 
from  the  driest  wood,  and  is  nearest  to  the  place  of  its 
origin,  and  when  it  is  seen  against  the  darkest  background 
with  the  light  of  the  sun  upon  it.  (F  18  r.) 

i 


ijo  A  SAND-STORM— PLANT  LIFE 

How  at  the  mouths  of  certain  valleys  the  gusts  of 
wind  strike  down  upon  the  waters  and  scoop  them  out  in 
a  great  hollow,  and  carry  the  water  up  into  the  air  in  the 
shape  of  a  column  and  of  the  colour  of  cloud.  And  this 
same  thing  I  once  saw  taking  place  on  a  sand-bank  in 
the  Arno,  where  the  sand  was  hollowed  out  to  a  depth 
of  more  than  a  man's  stature,  and  the  gravel  of  it  was 
removed  and  whirled  a  great  distance  apart,  and  assumed 
in  the  air  the  form  of  a  mighty  campanile,  and  the 
summit  of  it  grew  like  the  branches  of  a  great  pine,  and 
then  it  bent  on  meeting  the  swift  wind  which  passed  over 
the  mountains.  (Leic.  ^^  b  [R  996.]) 

ihough  nature  has  given  sensibility  to  pain  to  such 
living  organisms  as  have  the  power  of  movement, — in 
order  thereby  to  preserve  the  members  which  in  this 
movement  are  liable  to  diminish  and  be  destroyed, — the 
living  organisms  which  have  no  power  of  movement  do 
not  have  to  encounter  opposing  objects,  and  plants  con- 
sequently do  not  need  to  have  a  sensibility  to  pain,  and 
so  it  comes  about  that  if  you  break  them  they  do  not 
feel  anguish  in  their  members  as  do  the  animals. 

(#6o[iz]r.) 

"Nothing  grows  in  a  spot  where  there  is  neither 
sentient,  fibrous,  or  rational  life*  The  feathers  grow 
upon  birds  and  change  every  year  ;  hairs  grow  upon 
animals,  and  change  every  year  except  a  part  such  as  the 
hairs  of  the  beard  in  lions  and  cats  and  creatures  like 
these.  The  grass  grows  in  the  fields,  the  leaves  upon 
the  trees,  and  every  year  these  are  renewed  in  great 


PLATE  6 


f*VH«, 


yf  */J*f  . 


MS.  WITH  TEXT  OF  *PEL  SITO  DI  VENERE'  (FOR  THE  SHRINE  OF 

VENUS),  ALSO  ARCHITECTURAL  STUDIES  AND  SKETCH 

OF  NEPTUNE  WITH  HIS  HORSES 

Face  p.  131 


THE  EARTH  AN  ORGANISM  131 

part.  So  then  we  may  say  that  the  earth  has  a  spirit  of 
growth ;  that  its  flesh  is  the  soil,  its  bones  are  the  suc- 
cessive strata  of  the  rocks  which  form  the  mountains, 
its  muscles  are  the  tufa  stone,  its  blood  the  springs  of  its 
waters.  The  lake  of  blood  that  lies  about  the  heart  is 
the  ocean  ;  its  breathing  is  by  the  increase  and  decrease 
of  the  blood  in  its  pulses,  and  even  so  in  the  earth  is 
the  flow  and  ebb  of  the  sea.  And  the  heat  of  the  spirit 
of  the  world  is  the  fire  which  is  spread  throughout  the 
earth  ;  and  the  dwelling-place  of  its  creative  spirit  is  in 
the  fires,  which  in  divers  parts  of  the  earth  are  breathed 
out  in  baths  and  sulphur  mines,  and  in  volcanoes,  such 
as  Mount  Aetna  in  Sicily,  and  many  other  places. 

(Leic.  34  a  [R  loooj) 

FOR   THE    SHRINE    OF   VENUS 

You  should  make  steps  on  four  sides  by  which  to 
ascend  to  a  plateau  formed  by  nature  on  the  summit  of 
a  rock ;  and  let  this  rock  be  hollowed  out,  and  supported 
with  pillars  in  front,  and  pierced  beneath  by  a  great 
portico,  wherein  water  should  be  falling  into  various 
basins  of  granite  and  porphyry  and  serpentine,  within  re- 
cesses shaped  like  a  half-circle ;  and  let  the  water  in 
these  be  continually  flowing  over ;  and  facing  this  por- 
tico towards  the  north,  let  there  be  a  lake  with  a  small 
island  in  the  centre,  and  on  this  have  a  thick  and  shady 
wood.  Let  the  waters  at  the  top  of  the  pillars  be 
poured  down  into  vases  standing  at  their  bases,  and 
from  these  let  there  be  flowing  tiny  rivulets. 

From   the    coast. — Setting   out   from   the  coast   of 


1 32  THE  REALM  OF  VENUS 

Cilicia  towards  the  south,  you  discover  the  beauty  of  the 
island  of  Cyprus,  which  .  .  . 

(Windsor  MSS.  Notes  et  dessins  sur  les  Altitudes  df  PRomme 
[Rouveyre]  1 1  r.) 

From  the  southern  sea-board  of  Cilicia  may  be  seen 
to  the  south  the  beautiful  island  of  Cyprus,  which  was 
the  realm  of  the  goddess  Venus  ;  and  many  there  have 
been,  who,  impelled  by  her  loveliness,  have  had  their 
ships  and  rigging  broken  upon  the  rocks  which  lie 
amidst  the  seething  waves.  Here  the  beauty  of  some 
pleasant  hill  invites  the  wandering  mariners  to  take  their 
ease  among  its  flowery  verdure,  where  the  zephyrs  con- 
tinually come  and  go,  filling  with  sweet  odours  the  island 
and  the  encompassing  sea.  Alas  !  How  many  ships 
have  foundered  there  !  How  many  vessels  have  been 
broken  upon  these  rocks  !  Here  might  be  seen  an 
innumerable  host  of  ships  ;  some  broken  in  pieces  and 
half  buried  in  sand  ;  here  is  visible  the  poop  of  one,  and 
there  a  prow  ;  here  a  keel  and  there  a  rib  ;  and  it  seems 
like  a  day  of  judgment  when  there  shall  be  a  resurrection 
of  dead  ships,  so  great  is  the  mass  that  covers  the  whole 
northern  shore.  There  the  northern  winds  resounding 
make  strange  and  fearful  noises. 

(Windsor  MBS.  Notes  et  dessins  sur  les  Attitudes  de  FHommc 
[Rouveyre]  11  v.) 

When  mountains  fall  headlong  over  hollow  places  they 
shut  in  the  air  within  their  caverns,  and  this  air,  in  order 
to  escape,  breaks  through  the  earth,  and  so  produces 
earthquakes. 


OF  A  RIVER  IN  FLOOD  133 

My  opponent  says  this  cannot  be  the  case,  for  either 
the  whole  mountain  which  covers  the  cavern  falls  or  else 
only  the  inner  part  of  it ;  and  if  the  whole  falls,  then  the 
compressed  air  escapes  through  the  opening  of  the  cave 
which  is  uncovered,  while  if  only  the  inner  part  falls 
then  the  compressed  air  escapes  into  the  vacuum  which 
is  left  by  the  falling  earth.  (C.  A.  289  v.  b.) 

Amid  all  the  causes  of  the  destruction  of  human 
property,  it  seems  to  me  that  rivers  on  account  of  their 
excessive  and  violent  inundations  hold  the  foremost  place. 
And  if  as  against  the  fury  of  impetuous  rivers  any  one 
should  wish  to  uphold  fire,  such  an  one  would  seem  to 
me  to  be  lacking  in  judgment,  for  fire  remains  spent  and 
dead  when  fuel  fails  it,  but  against  the  irreparable 
inundation  caused  by  swollen  and  proud  rivers  no  re- 
source of  human  foresight  can  avail ;  for  in  a  succession 
of  raging  and  seething  [waves],  gnawing  and  tearing 
away  the  high  banks,  growing  turbid  with  the  earth 
from  the  ploughed  fields,  destroying  the  houses  therein 
and  uprooting  the  tall  trees  it  carries  these  as  its  prey 
down  to  the  sea  which  is  its  lair,  bearing  along  with  it 
men,  trees,  animals,  houses,  and  lands,  sweeping  away 
every  dike  and  every  kind  of  barrier,  bearing  with  it  the 
light  things,  and  devastating  and  destroying  those  of 
weight,  creating  big  landslips  out  of  small  fissures,  filling 
up  with  its  floods  the  low  valleys,  and  rushing  headlong 
with  insistent  and  inexorable  mass  of  waters. 

What  a  need  there  is  of  flight  for  whoso  is  near !  O 
how  many  cities,  how  many  lands,  castles,  villas  and 
houses  has  it  consumed  ! 


i34  OF  BIRDS  OF  PREY 

How  many  of  the  labours  of  wretched  husbandmen 
have  been  rendered  idle  and  profitless!  How  many 
families  has  it  brought  to  nought,  and  overwhelmed  ! 
What  shall  I  say  of  the  herds  of  cattle  which  have  been 
drowned  and  lost ! 

And  often  issuing  forth  from  its  ancient  rocky  beds  it 

washes  over  the  tilled  [lands].  .  .  . 

(C.  A.  361  v.  a.} 

Amid  the  whirling  currents  of  the  winds  were  seen 
a  great  number  of  companies  of  birds  coming  from 
distant  lands,  and  these  appeared  in  such  a  way  as  to  be 
almost  indistinguishable,  for  in  their  wheeling  move- 
ments at  one  time  all  the  birds  of  one  company  were 
seen  edgewise,  that  is  showing  as  little  as  possible  of 
their  bodies,  and  at  another  time  showing  the  whole 
measure  of  their  breadth,  that  is  full  in  face ;  and  at 
the  time  of  their  first  appearance  they  took  the  form 
of  an  indistinguishable  cloud,  and  then  the  second 
and  third  bands  became  by  degrees  more  clearly 
defined  as  they  approached  nearer  to  the  eye  of  the 
beholder. 

And  the  nearest  of  the  above-mentioned  bands  dropped 
down  low  with  a  slanting  movement,  and  settled  upon 
the  dead  bodies,  which  were  borne  along  by  the  waves  of 
this  great  deluge,  and  fed  upon  them,  and  so  continued 
until  such  time  as  the  buoyancy  of  the  inflated  dead 
bodies  came  to  fail,  and  with  slow  descent  they  sank 
gradually  down  to  the  bottom  of  the  waters. 

(C.  A.  354  ft  '•) 

Like  an  eddying  wind  scouring  through  a  hollow, 


OF  A  ROCKY  CAVERN  135 

sandy  valley,  and  with  speeding  course  driving  into  its 
vortex  everything  that  opposes  its  furious  onset.  .  .  . 
Not  otherwise  does  the  northern  blast  drive  back  with 
its  hurricane.  .  .  .  Nor  does  the  tempestuous  sea  make 
so  loud  a  roaring  when  the  northern  blast  beats  it  back 
in  foaming  waves  between  Scylla  and  Charybdis,  nor 
Stromboli  nor  Mount  Etna  when  the  pent-up,  sulphurous 
fires,  bursting  open  and  rending  asunder  the  mighty 
mountain  by  their  force,  are  hurling  through  the 
air  rocks  and  earth  mingled  together  in  the  issuing 
belching  flames.  .  .  . 

Nor  when  Etna's  burning  caverns  vomit  forth  and 
give  out  again  the  uncontrollable  element,  and  thrust  it 
back  to  its  own  region  in  fury,  driving  before  it  what- 
ever obstacle  withstands  its  impetuous  rage.  ,  .  . 

And  drawn  on  by  my  eager  desire,  anxious  to  behold 
the  mighty  ...  of  the  varied  and  strange  forms  created 
by  the  artificer  nature,  having  wandered  for  some  distance 
among  the  overhanging  rocks,  I  came  to  the  mouth  of 
a  huge  cavern  before  which  for  a  time  I  remained 
stupefied,  not  having  been  aware  of  its  existence, — my 
back  bent  to  an  arch,  my  left  hand  clutching  my  knee, 
while  with  the  right  I  made  a  shade  for  my  lowered  and 
contracted  eyebrows  ;  bending  continually  first  one  way 
and  then  another  in  order  to  see  whether  I  could  discern 
anything  inside,  though  this  was  rendered  impossible  by 
the  intense  darkness  within ;  and  after  remaining  there 
for  a  time,  suddenly  there  were  awakened  within  me  two 
emotions, — fear  and  desire, — fear  of  the  dark,  threatening 
cavern,  desire  to  see  whether  there  might  be  any  marvel- 
lous thing  therein.  (5.  Af.  26 3,  ^.155  r.) 


I36  OF  A  SEA  MONSTER 

O  powerful  and  once  living  instrument  of  constructive 
nature,  thy  great  strength  not  availing  thee,  thou  must 
needs  abandon  thy  tranquil  life  to  obey  the  law  which  God 
and  time  ordained  for  ail  procreative  nature  !  To  thee 
availed  not  the  branching,  sturdy,  dorsal  fins  wherewith 
pursuing  thy  prey  thou  wert  wont  to  plough  thy  way,  tern- 
pestuuusly  tearing  open  the  briny  waves  with  thy  breast. 

O  how  many  times  the  frightened  shoals  of  dolphins 
and  big  tunny  fish  were  seen  to  flee  before  thy  insensate 
fury  ;  and  thou,  lashing  with  swift,  branching  fins  and 
forked  tail,  didst  create  in  the  sea  mist  and  sudden 
tempest,  with  loud  uproar  and  foundering  of  ships  ;  with 
mighty  wave  then  didst  heap  up  the  open  shores  with  the 
frightened  and  terrified  fishes,  which  thus  escaping  from 
thee  were  left  high  and  dry  when  the  sea  abandoned 
them,  and  became  the  plenteous  and  abundant  spoil  of 
the  neighbouring  peoples. 

O  time,  swift  despoiler  of  created  things  !  How 
many  kings,  how  many  peoples  hast  thou  brought  low  ! 
How  many  changes  of  state  and  circumstance  have 
followed  since  the  wondrous  form  of  this  fish  died  here 
in  this  hollow,  winding  recess  ?  Now  destroyed  by  time 
patiently  thou  liest  within  this  narrow  space,  and  with 
thy  bones  despoiled  and  bare  art  become  an  armour  and 
support  to  the  mountain  which  lies  above  thee,1 


1  The  text  of  the  above  passage  is  in  parts  very  indistinct.  As  my 
transcript  differs  in  i»evera]  places  from  that  given  by  Dr.  Richter  (Literary 
Works  ofL.daP.§  121  7),  I  give  the  passage  in  extensoi  — 

O  potcte  c  gia  anjrnato  struraeto  dell  arteficiosa  natura  |  a  te  n6  valfido  le 
tue  gra  force  ti  chauene  abadonare  la  traquilla  vita  obedjre  alia  legie  |  chel 
che  djo  el  tepo  dje  alia  gienj  trice  natura  a  tette  no  ualse  |  le  ramvte  e  (Leg) 


OF  THE  FORESIGHT  OF  NATURE  137 

O  how  many  times  hast  thou  been  seen  amid  the  waves 
of  the  mighty,  swelling  ocean,  towering  like  a  mountain, 
conquering  and  overcoming  them !  And  with  black 
finned  back  ploughing  through  the  salt  waves  with  proud 
and  stately  bearing  !  (C.  A.  265  r.  a.) 

WHY    NATURE    DID    NOT    ORDAIN    THAT    ONE    ANIMAL 
SHOULD    NOT    LIVE    BY   THE    DEATH    OF   ANOTHER 

Nature  being  capricious,  and  taking  pleasure  in  creat- 
ing and  producing  a  succession  of  new  lives  and  forms 
because  she  knows  that  they  serve  to  increase  her  terres- 
trial substance,  is  more  ready  and  swift  so  to  create  than 
time  is  to  destroy ;  and  therefore  she  has  ordained  that 
many  of  the  animals  shall  serve  as  food  one  for  the  other. 
And  as  her  desire  is  still  unsatisfied,  she  frequently  sends 
forth  certain  noisome  and  pestilential  vapours  upon  the 
rapidly  increasing  herds  of  animals,  and  especially  upon 
men,  who  increase  very  rapidly  because  other  animals  do 

ha  ghagliard(r)e  (aprt)  schiene  cholle  quali  tu   seghuitado  la  tua  |  pleda 
(aprivis)  solchavi  chopetto  apredo  chotepessta  le  salse  ode  | 

*  O  quate  volte  (fusti)  furono  vedute  le  Ipavrite  schiere  |  de  dalfini  e  de  gra 
tonnj  fugi(<i)re  dal  inpia  tua  tua  ffuria  (pcchupare)  \  ettu  cho  chol  velocie 
rarovte  lalie  cholla  forcielluta  choda  fuminado   gieneravj   nel  mare  j  nibia 
(iatepessta)  subita  tepessta  cho  gra  busso  e  somersione  dj  navilj  cho  gra  |  de 
Odameto  epievi  gli  schcp(er)ti  liti  (de  gra)  degli  ipavritj  essbigho  |  ttitj  pesscj 
e  togledosi  atte  p(er)  lasciato  mare  ii(#)  masi  in  seccho  djvenjvano  sup(er)cha 
e  a  |  bodante  pleda  de  vicinj  popolj. 

f(0  tepoquati  re.) 

*  O  tepo  chonsumatore  delle  (dj  tutte  le)  chose :  ateri  volgiedole  |  dai  (to)  alle 
tratte  vice  nvuove  e  varie  abitazionj  (O  quate  \  monarchic  cha  o  quati).    O 
tfipo  (vicitore)  velocie  pledatore  |  della  chleate  chose  quatj  re  quati  popolj  ai 
tu  djssfattj  e  qua  |  te  mutazionj  djsstatj  e  vari  chasj  (so)  sono  seghuitj  po  che 
la  mara  |  vgliosa  forma  dj  q(ue)sto  pesscie  quj  raorj  |  p(er)  le  chav(er)nose  e 
ritorte  interiora  | 

*  ora  disfato  dal  tepo  pazgte  djaci  j  questo  chivso  locho  chole  jsspogliate 
spolpate  e  ignjvde  ossa  |  ai  fatto  (ra)  armadura  e  sosstegnjo  al  sop(r)a  possto 
mote.' 


1 38  OF  THE  END  OF  THE  WORLD 

not  feed  upon  them,  and  if  these  causes  were  removed 
the  results  would  cease.  So  therefore  this  earth  seeks  to 
lose  its  life,  desiring  only  constant  reproduction,  and  as3 
for  the  reason  which  you  have  assigned  and  expounded, 
the  effects  are  generally  in  harmony  with  their  causes, 
so  animals  are  a  type  of  the  life  of  the  world. 

(B.  M  263,  Ar.  156^.) 

The  watery  element  remained  pent  up  within  the 
raised  banks  of  the  rivers,  and  the  sea  is  seen  amid  the 
upheaved   masses   of  the  earth ;    the   surrounding   air 
served  to  bind   together  and  circumscribe  the  earth's 
manifold  structure,  because  its  mass  which  stood  between 
the  water  and  the  fiery  element  remained  straitly  com- 
passed about,  and  deprived  of  the  needful  supply  of 
water.     The  rivers  will  remain  without  their  waters; 
the  fertile  earth  will  put  forth  no  more  her  light  leaves, 
no  more  will  the  fields  be  decked  with  waving  corn  ;  all 
the  animals  will  perish  failing  to  find  fresh  grass  for 
fodder,   and  the  ravening  lions  and  wolves  and  other 
beasts  which  live  by  prey  will  lack  sustenance,  and  after 
many  desperate  shifts  men  will  be  forced  to  abandon 
their  lives,  and  the  human  race  will  cease  to  be.     Hence 
the  fertile  and  fruitful  earth  being  deserted  will  be  left 
arid  and  sterile,  but  by  reason  of  the  stored-up  moisture 
of  the  water  confined  within  its  depths  and  by  the  very 
activity  of  nature  it  will  observe  something  of  its  law  of 
growth,  until  after  having  passed  through  the  cold  and 
rarified  air  it  will  be  forced  to  end  its  course  in  the 
element  of  fire ;  and  then  the  surface  of  it  will  remain 
burnt  to  a  cinder,  and  this  will  be  the  end  of  all  terres- 
trial nature.  (£.  M.  263,  Ar.  \ 5 j  *.) 


OF  NOTHINGNESS— OF  THE  ECHO  139 

Nothingness  has  no  centre,  and  its  boundaries  are 
nothingness. 

My  opponent  says  that  nothingness  and  a  vacuum  are 
one  and  the  same  thing,  having  indeed  two  separate 
names  by  which  they  are  called,  but  not  existing 
separately  in  nature. 

The  reply  is  that  whenever  there  exists  a  vacuum 
there  will  also  be  the  space  which  surrounds  it,  but 
nothingness  exists  apart  from  occupation  of  space  ;  it 
follows  that  nothingness  and  a  vacuum  are  not  the 
same,  for  the  one  is  divisible  to  infinity,  and  nothingness 
cannot  be  divided  because  nothing  can  be  less  than  it  is  ; 
and  if  you  were  to  take  part  from  it  this  part  would  be 
equal  to  the  whole,  and  the  whole  to  the  part. 

(C.  A.  289  v.  b.) 


THE    NOTE    OF   THE    ECHO 

The  note  of  the  echo  is  either  continuous  or  inter- 
mittent, it  occurs  alone  or  is  united,  is  of  brief  or  long 
duration,  finite  or  endless  in  sound,  immediate  or  far 
away.  It  is  continuous  when  the  surface  on  which  the 
echo  is  produced  is  uniformly  concave.  The  note  of 
the  echo  is  intermittent  when  the  place  which  produces  it 
is  broken  and  interrupted.  It  is  alone  when  it  is  pro- 
duced in  one  place  only.  It  is  united  when  it  is  produced 
in  several  places.  It  is  either  brief  or  long-continuing, 
as  when  it  goes  winding  round  within  a  bell  which  has 
been  struck,  or  in  a  cistern  or  other  hollow  space,  or 
in  clouds  wherein  the  note  recurs  at  fixed  distances  in 
regular  intervals  of  time,  ever  uniformly  growing  fainte^ 


1 40  OF  ACOUSTICS 

and  is  like  the  wave  that  spreads  itself  out  in  a  circle 
over  the  sea. 

The  sound  often  seems  to  proceed  from  the  direction 
of  the  echo,  and  not  from  the  place  where  the  real  sound 
is  ;  and  similarly  it  happened  at  Ghiera  d'Adda,  when  a 
fire  which  broke  out  there  caused  in  the  air  twelve  lurid 
reflections  upon  twelve  clouds,  and  the  cause  was  not 
perceived.  (C.  A.  77  v.  £) 

OF    THE    SOUND   WHICH    SEEMS    TO    REMAIN    IN    THE 
BELL    AFTER    THE    STROKE 

That  sound  which  remains  or  seems  to  remain  in  the 
bell  after  it  has  received  the  stroke  is  not  in  the  bell 
itself  but  in  the  ear  of  the  listener,  and  the  ear  retains 
within  itself  the  image  of  the  stroke  of  the  bell  which  it 
has  heard,  and  only  loses  it  by  slow  degrees,  like  that 
which  the  impression  of  the  sun  creates  in  the  eye, 
which  only  by  slow  degrees  becomes  lost  and  is  no 
longer  seen. 

A    PROOF   TO   THE    CONTRARY 

If  the  aforesaid  proposition  were  true,  you  would  not 
be  able  to  cause  the  sound  of  the  bell  to  cease  abruptly 
by  touching  it  with  the  palm  of  the  hand,  especially  at 
the  beginning  of  its  strength,  for  surely  if  it  were  touched 
it  would  not  happen  that  as  you  touched  the  bell  with  the 
hand  the  ear  would  simultaneously  withhold  the  sound  ; 
whereas  we  see  that  if  after  the  stroke  has  taken  place 
the  hand  is  placed  upon  the  thing  which  is  struck  the 
sound  suddenly  ceases.  (C.  Ji.  332  v.  a.) 


OF  THE  FLIGHT  OF  BIRDS  141 

I  have  divided  the  'Treatise  on  <Birds  into  four  books  : 
of  which  the  first  treats  of  their  flight  by  beating  their 
wings ;  the  second  of  flight  without  beating  the  wings 
and  with  the  help  of  the  wind ;  the  third  of  flight  in 
general,  such  as  that  of  birds,  bats,  fishes,  animals, 
and  insects  ;  the  last  of  the  mechanism  of  this  movement. 


The  bird  in  its  flight  without  the  help  of  the  wind 
drops  half  the  wing  downwards,  and  thrusts  the  other 
half  towards  the  tip  backwards ;  and  the  part  which  is 
moved  down  prevents  the  descent  of  the  bird,  and  that 
which  goes  backwards  drives  the  bird  forward. 

When  the  bird  raises  its  wings  it  brings  their  ex- 
tremities near  together  ;  and  while  lowering  them  it 
spreads  them  further  apart  during  the  first  half  of  the 
movement,  but  after  this  middle  stage  as  they  continue 
to  descend  it  brings  them  together  again.  (K  12  v.) 

When  the  bird  lowers  one  of  its  wings  necessity 
constrains  it  instantly  to  extend  it,  for  if  it  did  not  do 
so  it  would  turn  right  over. 

The  bird  when  it  wishes  to  turn  does  not  beat  its 
wings  with  equal  movement,  but  moves  the  one  which 
makes  the  convex  of  the  circle  it  describes,  more  than 
that  which  makes  the  concave  of  the  circle.  (K  4  &.) 

The  bird  beats  its  wings  repeatedly  on  one  side  only 
when  it  wishes  to  turn  round  while  one  wing  is  held 
stationary;  and  this  it  does  by  taking  a  stroke  with  the 
wing  in  the  direction  of  the  tail,  like  a  man  rowing  in 


i42  OF  THE  FLIGHT  OF  BIRDS 

a  boat  with  two  oars,  who  takes  many  strokes  on  that 
side  from  which  he  wishes  to  escape,  and  keeps  the  other 
oar  fixed.  (K  7  r.) 

Unless  the  movement  of  the  wing  which  presses  the 
air  is  swifter  than  the  flight  of  the  air  when  pressed, 
the  air  will  not  become  condensed  beneath  the  wing,  and 
in  consequence  the  bird  will  not  support  itself  above 
the  air. 

That  part  of  the  air  which  is  nearest  to  the  wing 
will  most  resemble  in  its  movement  the  movement  of 
the  wing  which  presses  on  it ;  and  that  part  will  be  more 
stable  which  is  further  removed  from  the  said  wing. 

That  part  of  the  air  which  is  the  nearest  to  the  wing 
which  presses  on  it,  will  have  the  greatest  density. 

The  air  has  greater  density  when  it  is  nearer  to  water, 
and  [greater  rarity]  when  it  is  nearer  to  the  cold  region, 
and  midway  between  these  it  is  purer. 

The  air  of  the  cold  region  offers  no  resistance  to  the 
movement  of  the  birds  unless  they  have  already  passed 
through  a  considerable  space  of  the  air  beneath  them. 

The  extremities  of  the  wings  of  birds  are  of  necessity 
flexible. 

The  properties  of  the  air  are  such  that  it  may  become 
condensed  or  rarefied.  (C.  A.  161  r.  a.) 

The  birds  which  seek  to  penetrate  within  the  approach- 
ing wind  are  in  the  habit  of  fluttering  to  the  right  and 
to  the  left,  like  sailors  tacking  against  the  direction  of  the 
winds ;  and  this  they  do  in  order  not  to  make  a  long 
descent,  for  if  the  bird  did  not  guard  against  descending 


OF  THE  FLIGHT  OF  BIRDS  143 

for  any  great  distance,  it  would  be  driven  right  against 
the  current  of  the  wind  ;  and,  entering  under  the  wind 
slanting  lengthwise,  it  will  present  so  much  of  its  weight 
by  this  line  as  to  subdue  the  resistance  of  the  wind. 

(K  8  v.) 

The  opening  and  lowering  of  the  tail  and  the  spread- 
ing out  of  the  wings  at  the  same  time  to  their  full 
extent,  arrests  the  swift  movement  of  birds. 

When  birds  in  descending  are  near  to  the  ground, 
and  the  head  is  below  the  tail,  they  then  lower  the  tail, 
which  is  spread  wide  open,  and  take  short  strokes  with 
the  wings  ;  and  consequently  the  head  becomes  higher 
than  the  tail,  and  the  speed  is  checked  to  such  an  extent 
that  the  bird  alights  on  the  ground  without  any  shock. 

In  all  the  changes  which  birds  make  in  their  lines  of 
movement  they  spread  out  their  tails. 

There  are  many  birds  which  move  their  wings  as 
swiftly  when  they  raise  them  as  when  they  let  them  fall : 
such  as  magpies  and  birds  like  these.  (L  58  *.) 

There  are  some  birds  which  are  in  the  habit  of  moving 
their  wings  more  swiftly  when  they  lower  them  than  when 
they  raise  them,  and  this  is  seen  to  be  the  case  with 
doves  and  such  like  birds.  . 

There  are  others  which  lower  their  wings  more  slowly 
than  they  raise  them,  and  this  seen  with  rooks  and  other 
birds  like  these. 

The  birds  which  fly  swiftly,  keeping  at  the  same  distance 
above  the  ground,  are  in  the  habit  of  beating  their  wings 
downwards  and  behind  them,  downwards  to  the  extent 


i44  OF  THE  FLIGHT  OF  BIRDS 

necessary  to   prevent  the    bird   from  descending,   and 
behind  when  they  wish  to  advance  with  greater  speed. 

The  speed  of  birds  is  checked  by  the  opening  and 
spreading  out  of  the  tail.  (L  59  */.) 

ii 

The  imperceptible  fluttering  of  the  wings  without  any 
actual  strokes  keeps  the  bird  poised  and  motionless  amid 
the  moving  air. 

The  reverse  movement  against  the  direction  of  the 
wind  will  always  be  greater  than  the  advancing  move- 
ment ;  and  the  reverse  movement  when  made  with  the 
course  of  the  wind  will  be  increased  by  the  wind,  and 
will  become  equal  to  the  advancing  movement. 

The  ways  in  which  birds  rise,  without  beating  their 
wings  but  by  circles,  with  the  help  of  the  wind,  are  of  two 
kinds, — simple  and  complex.  The  simple  comprise  those 
in  which,  in  their  advancing  movement,  they  travel  above 
the  flight  of  the  wind,  and  at  the  end  of  it  turn  and  face  the 
direction  of  the  wind,  receiving  its  buffeting  from  beneath, 
and  so  finish  the  reverse  movement  against  the  wind. 

The  complex  movement  by  which  birds  rise  is  also 
circular,  and  consists  of  an  advancing  and  reverse  move- 
ment against  the  direction  of  the  wind  in  a  course  which 
takes  the  form  of  a  half  circle,  and  of  an  advancing  and 
reverse  movement  which  follows  the  course  of  the  wind. 

The  simple  circular  movement  of  rising  without  beat- 
ing the  wings  will  always  occur  when  there  is  great 
agitation  of  the  winds,  and  this  being  the  case,  it  follows 
that  the  bird  in  so  rising  is  also  carried  a  considerable 


OF  THE  FLIGHT  OF  BIRDS  145 

distance  by  the  force  of  the  wind.  And  the  complex 
movement  will  be  found  to  occur  when  there  are  light 
winds,  for  experience  shows  that  in  these  complex 
movements  the  bird  rises  through  the  air  without  being 
carried  too  far  by  the  wind  in  the  direction  in  which  it  is 
travelling. 

The  down  and  feathers  underneath  the  wings  are 
plentiful,  and  at  the  ends  of  the  wings  and  tail  the  tips  of 
the  feathers  are  flexible  or  capable  of  being  bent,  whilst 
those  on  the  front  of  the  wing,  where  it  strikes  the  air, 
are  firm.  (C.  A.  508  r.  £.) 

My  opponent  says  that  he  cannot  deny  that  the  bird 
cannot  fall  either  backwards  or  with  head  underneath 
in  a  perpendicular  line  ;  but  that  it  seems  to  him  that  its 
descent  may  be  sheer  if  it  keeps  the  wings  wide  open  and 
has  one  of  the  wings  as  well  as  the  head  below  its  centre 
of  gravity.1  To  this  argument  the  answer  is  the  same  as 
to  what  preceded  it ;  that  is,  that  if  this  bird  being  in  ?uch 
a  position  without  having  other  means  of  aiding  itself 
were  to  drop  perpendicularly,  it  would  be  contrary  to 
the  fourth  part  of  the  second  book  of  the  Elements, 
where  it  was  proved  that  every  body  which  falls  freely 
through  the  air  will  fall  in  such  a  way  that  the  heaviest 
part  of  it  will  become  the  guide  of  its  movement ;  and 
here  the  heaviest  part  is  found  to  be  midway  between 
the  extremities  of  the  open  wings,  that  is  midway  between 
the  two  lightest  parts,  and  therefore,  as  has  been  proved, 
such  a  descent  is  impossible. 

1  The  MS.  has  here  an  explanation  of  a  diagram :  *  that  is,  it  will  drop  in 
the  line  a  b,  the  wings  d  c  being  wide  apart  at  their  natural  extension.' 

K 


146  OF  THE  FLIGHT  OF  BIRDS 

We  have  therefore  proved  that  when  a  bird  has  its 
wings  spread  out  and  its  head  somewhat  raised,  it  is 
impossible  for  it  ever  to  fall  or  descend  in  a  perpen- 
dicular line  ;  on  the  contrary,  it  will  always  descend  by 
a  slanting  line,  and  every  tiny  movement  of  wings  or 
tail  changes  the  direction  and  slanting  descent  of  this 
line  to  the  reflex  movement 

Nature  has  so  provided  that  all  the  large  birds  can 
stay  at  so  great  an  elevation  that  the  wind  which 
increases  their  flight  may  be  of  straight  course  and 
powerful.  For  if  their  flight  were  low,  among  moun- 
tains where  the  wind  goes  wandering  and  is  perpetually 
full  of  eddies  and  whirlwinds,  and  where  they  cannot 
find  any  spot  of  shelter  by  reason  of  the  fury  of  the  icy 
blasts  among  the  narrow  defiles  of  the  mountains,  nor 
can  so  guide  themselves  with  their  great  wings  as  to 
avoid  being  dashed  upon  the  cliffs  and  the  high  rocks 
and  trees,  would  not  this  sometimes  prove  to  be  the  cause 
of  their  destruction  ?  Whereas  at  great  altitudes  when- 
ever through  some  accident  the  course  of  the  wind  is 
changed  in  any  way  whatsoever  the  bird  has  always  time 
to  redirect  its  course,  and  in  safety  take  a  calm  flight, 
which  will  always  be  entirely  free  ;  and  it  can  always 
pass  above  clouds  and  thereby  avoid  wetting  its  wings. 

Inasmuch  as  all  beginnings  of  things  are  often  the 
cause  of  great  results,  so  we  may  see  a  small  almost 
imperceptible  movement  of  the  rudder  to  have  power 
to  turn  a  ship  of  marvellous  size  and  loaded  with  a  very 
heavy  cargo,  and  that,  too,  amid  such  a  weight  of  water 
as  presses  on  its  every  beam,  and  in  the  teeth  of  the 


OF  THE  FLIGHT  OF  BIRDS  147 

impetuous  winds  which  are  enveloping  its  mighty  sails. 
Therefore  we  may  be  certain  in  the  case  of  those  birds 
which  can  support  themselves  above  the  course  of  the 
winds  without  beating  their  wings,  that  a  slight  move- 
ment of  wing  or  tail,  which  will  serve  them  to  enter 
either  below  or  above  the  wind,  will  suffice  to  prevent 
the  fall  of  the  said  birds.  (C.  A.  308  v.  £) 

The  helms  which  are  on  the  shoulders  of  the  wings  are 
necessary  when  the  bird  in  its  flight  without  beating  its 
wings  wishes  to  maintain  itself  in.  part  of  a  tract  of  air, 
upon  which  it  is  either  slipping  down  or  rising,  and 
when  it  wishes  to  bend  either  upwards  or  downwards 
or  to  right  or  left.  It  then  uses  these  helms  in  this 
manner  :  if  the  bird  wishes  to  rise  it  spreads  the  helm 
in  the  opposite  direction  to  the  way  the  wind  strikes  it  ; 
and  if  to  descend  it  spreads  the  top  part  of  the  helm 
slanting  to  the  course  of  the  wind.  If  it  turns  to  the 
right  it  spreads  the  right  helm  to  the  wind,  and  if  it 
turns  to  the  left  it  spreads  the  left  helm  to  the  wind. 


When  the  bird  rises  up  by  the  assistance  of  the  wind 
without  beating  its  wings,  it  spreads  out  and  raises  its 
wings  so  that  they  form  an  arch  with  the  concave  side 
towards  the  sky,  and  it  receives  the  wind  under  its  wings 
continually,  in  its  movement  to  and  fro,  and  this  would 
cause  it  to  turn  right  over,  if  it  were  not  that  the  point 
of  its  tail  is  turned  to  the  wind  as  it  enters  beneath  the 
wind  ;  and  this  afterwards  by  its  power  of  resistance  acts 
to  prevent  the  said  movement  of  turning  over,  because 
the  wings  are  restrained  by  the  tail  in  such  a  way  that 


I48  OF  THE  FLIGHT  OF  BIRDS 

their  various  parts  are  of  equal  power,  and  so  the  tail 
becomes  partly  lowered  and  the  bird  is  raised  forward 
slightly.  (K  10  v.) 

When  the  kite  rises  or  sinks  without  beating  its  wings, 
it  holds  them  slanting,  and  keeps  the  tail  slanting  in 
the  same  way  but  not  to  the  same  extent,  for  if  this 
were  so  the  bird  would  fall  to  the  ground  by  the  line 
of  the  slant  of  the  wings  and  of  the  tail  ;  but  as  this 
tail  is  away  from  the  centre  of  the  bird's  length  it  meets 
with  somewhat  more  resistance  than  the  wings,  and  this 
in  consequence  checks  its  movement,  and  so  the  tail 
has  less  movement  than  the  wings.  Necessity  causes 
the  bird  to  move  with  a  circular  motion,  and  as  the  tail 
is  less  slanting,  so  in  proportion  the  circles  are  less  in 
diameter,  and  so  also  conversely.  (K  60  [u]  r.  59  [ro]  *.) 

When  the  bird  is  carried  along  by  the  wind  and 
wishes  to  turn  quickly  towards  it,  it  will  then  enter 
beneath  the  wind  with  the  wing  turned  towards  it  ;  and 
then  with  the  feathers  of  the  tail  turned  towards  the 
wind,  it  will  enter  upon  it,  and  so  by  the  help  of  the 
wind  striking  upon  its  tail  it  turns  much  more  rapidly. 


If  one  of  the  wings  is  lowered  rapidly  and  then  folded 
the  bird  drops  a  little  on  that  side  ;  and  if  it  is  lowered 
rapidly  and  extended  the  bird  drops  on  the  opposite 
side  ;  and  if  it  is  lowered  slowly  and  extended  the  bird 
moves  in  a  circle  round  this  ,wing,  falling  as  it  proceeds  ; 
and  if  it  is  lowered  slowly  and  with  hesitation,  and 
folded  up3  then  the  bird  descends  in  curves  on  that  side* 


OF  THE  FLIGHT  OF  BIRDS  149 

All  birds  driven  by  the  water  or  by  the  wind  keep 
their  heads  in  the  direction  from  whence  the  water  or 
the  wind  are  coming.  Ther  do  this  in  order  to  prevent 
the  wind  or  the  water  penetrating  up  from  the  extremities 
to  the  roots  of  the  feathers,  so  that  each  of  the  feathers 
may  be  pressed  against  another,  and  thus  they  may 
remain  drier  and  warmer.  (£  3  «•.) 

The  bird  rises  to  a  height  in  a  straight  line  without 
beating  its  wings  when  the  reflex  current  of  the  wind 
strikes  it  from  underneath,  (K  3  r.) 


in 

When  the  kite  in  descending  turns  itself  right  over 
and  pierces  the  air  head  downwards,  it  is  forced  to  bend 
the  tail  as  far  as  it  can  in  the  opposite  direction  to  that 
which  it  desires  to  follow ;  and  then  again  bending  the 
tail  swiftly,  according  to  the  direction  in  which  it  wishes 
to  turn,  the  change  in  the  bird's  course  corresponds  to 
the  turn  of  the  tail,  like  the  rudder  of  a  ship  which 
when  turned  turns  the  ship,  but  in  the  opposite  direc- 
tion. 

When  the  wind  is  about  to  throw  the  bird  backwards 
then  the  bird  draws  together  the  shoulders  of  its  wings, 
so  that  its  weight  is  massed  more  to  the  front  than  it  was 
at  first,  and  consequently  the  part  that  is  heaviest  is  first 
in  its  descent,  while  in  addition  the  tail  is  spread  out 
and  bent  down.  (L  6z  r.} 

The  kite  and  the  other  birds  which  move  their  wings 
only  a  little  way,  go  in  search  of  the  current  of  the 


j  jo  OF  THE  FLIGHT  OF  BIRDS 

wind  ;  and  when  the  wind  is  blowing  at  a  height  they 
may  be  seen  at  a  great  elevation^  but  if  it  is  blowing  low 
down  then  they  remain  low. 

When  there  is  no  wind  stirring  in  the  air  then  the 
kite  beats  its  wings  more  rapidly  in  its  flight,  in  such  a 
way  that  it  rises  to  a  height  and  acquires  an  impetus  ; 
with  which  impetus,  dropping  then  very  gradually,  it  can 
travel  for  a  great  distance  without  moving  its  wings. 

And  when  it  has  descended  it  does  the  saro,  over 
again,  and  so  continues  for  many  times  in  succession. 

This  method  of  descending  without  moving  the  wings 
serves  it  as  a  means  of  resting  in  the  air  after  the  fatigue 
of  the  above  mentioned  beating  of  the  wings. 

All  the  birds  which  fly  in  spurts  rise  to  a  height  by 
beating  their  wings  ;  and  during  their  descent  they 
proceed  to  rest  themselves,  for  while  descending  they  do 
not  beat  their  wings.  (Sul  7  oh  degli  UcceUi 


The  swallow  has  its  wings  quite  different  from  those  of 
the  kite,  for  it  is  very  narrow  in  the  shoulder  and  long 
in  the  span  of  the  wing.  Its  stroke  when  it  flies  is  made 
up  of  two  distinct  actions,  that  is  the  span  of  the  wing  is 
spread  out  like  an  oar  in  the  direction  of  the  tail,  the 
shoulder  towards  the  earth  ;  and  in  this  way  while  the 
one  movement  impels  it  forward,  the  other  keeps  it  at 
its  height,  and  the  two  combined  carry  it  a  stage 
onwards  wherever  it  pleases.  (C.  A.  369  r.  a.) 

The  thrushes  and  other  small  birds  are  able  to  make 
headway  against  the  course  of  the  wind,  because  they 
fly  in  spurts;  that  is  they  take  a  long  course  below 


OF  ARTIFICIAL  FLIGHT  151 

the  wind,  by  dropping  in  a  slanting  direction  towards 
the  ground,  with  their  wings  half  closed,  and  they  then 
open  the  wings  and  catch  the  wind  in  them  with  their 
reverse  movement,  and  so  rise  to  a  height ;  and  then 
they  drop  again  in  the  same  way.  (c.  A.  313  r.  I.} 

Remember  that  your  bird  should  have  no  other 
model  than  the  bat,  because  its  membranes  serve  as  an 
armour  or  rather  as  a  means  of  binding  together  the 
pieces  of  its  armour,  that  is  the  framework  of  the  wings. 

And  if  you  take  as  your  pattern  the  wings  of  feathered 
birds,  these  are  more  powerful  in  structure  of  bone  and 
sinew  because  they  are  penetrable,  that  is  to  say  the 
feathers  are  separated  from  one  another  and  the  air 
passes  through  them.  But  the  bat  is  aided  by  its 
membrane  which  binds  the  whole  together  and  is  not 
penetrated  by  the  air.  (Sv!  Polo  degli  Uccdli,  16  [15]  r.) 

OF    THE    BIRD'S    MOVEMENT 

Of  whether  birds  when  continually  descending 
without  beating  their  wings  will  proceed  a  greater  dis- 
tance in  one  sustained  curve,  or  by  frequently  making 
some  reflex  movement ;  and  whether  when  they  wish  to 
pass  in  flight  from  one  spot  to  another  they  will  go  more 
quickly  by  making  impetuous,  headlong  movements,  and 
then  rising  up  with  reflex  movement  and  again  making  a 
fresh  descent,  and  so  continuing. — 1  o  speak  of  this  sub- 
ject you  must  needs  in  the  first  book  explain  the  nature 
of  the  resistance  of  the  air,  in  the  second  the  anatomy 
of  the  bird  and  of  its  wings,  in  the  third  the  method 
of  working  of  the  wings  in  their  various  movements, 


i52  OF  ARTIFICIAL  FLIGHT 

in  the  fourth  the  power  of  the  wings  and  of  the  tail, 
at  such  time  as  the  wings  are  not  being  moved  and 
the  wind  is  favourable,  to  serve  as  a  guide  in  different 
movements* 

Dissect  the  bat,  study  it  carefully,  and  on  this  model 
construct  the  machine. 


IV 

A  bird  is  an  instrument  working  according  to  mathe- 
matical law,  which  instrument  it  is  within  the  capacity 
of  man  to  reproduce  with  all  its  movements,  but  not 
with  a  corresponding  degree  of  strength,  though  it  is 
deficient  only  in  the  power  of  maintaining  equilibrium. 
We  may  therefore  say  that  such  an  instrument  con- 
structed by  man  is  lacking  in  nothing  except  the  life 
of  the  bird,  and  this  life  must  needs  be  supplied  from 
that  of  man. 

The  life  which  resides  in  the  bird's  members  will 
without  doubt  better  conform  to  their  needs  than  will 
that  of  man  which  is  separated  from  them,  and  especially 
in  the  almost  imperceptible  movements  which  preserve 
equilibrium.  But  since  we  see  that  the  bird  is  equipped 
for  many  obvious  varieties  of  movements,  we  are  able 
from  this  experience  to  deduce  that  the  most  rudimen- 
tary of  these  movements  will  be  capable  of  being 
comprehended  by  man's  understanding ;  and  that  he 
will  to  a  great  extent  be  able  to  provide  against  the 
destruction  of  that  instrument  of  which  he  has  himself 
become  the  living  principle  and  the  propeller. 

(C.  A,  161  r.  *.) 


OF  ARTIFICIAL  FLIGHT  153 

There  is  as  much  pressure  exerted  by  a  substance 
against  the  air  as  by  the  air  against  the  substance. 

Observe  how  the  beating  of  its  wings  against  the  air 
suffices  to  bear  up  the  weight  of  the  eagle  in  the  highly 
rarefied  air  which  borders  on  the  fiery  element!  Ob- 
serve also  how  the  air  moving  over  the  sea,  beaten  back 
by  the  bellying  sails,  causes  the  heavily  laden  ship  to 
glide  onwards!  So  that  by  adducing  and  expounding 
the  reasons  of  these  things  you  may  be  able  to  realise 
that  man  when  he  has  great  wings  attached  to  him,  by 
exerting  his  strength  against  the  resistance  of  the  air 
and  conquering  it,  is  enabled  to  subdue  it  and  to  raise 
himself  upon  it.  (C.  A.  381  v.  a.) 

Suppose  that  here  there  is  a  body  suspended,  which 
resembles  that  of  a  bird,  and  that  its  tail  is  twisted  to 
an  angle  of  various  different  degrees ;  you  will  be  able 
by  means  of  this  to  deduce  a  general  rule  as  to  the 
various  twists  and  turns  in  the  movements  of  birds 
occasioned  by  the  bending  of  their  tails. 

In  all  the  varieties  of  movements  the  heaviest  part  of 
the  thing  which  moves  becomes  the  guide  of  the  move- 
ment. (L  6 1  P.) 

The  bird  I  have  described  ought  to  be  able  by  the 
help  of  the  wind  to  rise  to  a  great  height,  and  this  will 
prove  to  be  its  safety ;  since  even  if  all  the  above-men- 
tioned revolutions  were  to  befall  it,  it  would  still  have 
time  to  regain  a  condition  of  equilibrium  ;  provided 
that  its  various  parts  have  a  great  power  of  resistance, 
so  that  they  can  safely  withstand  the  fury  and  violence 
of  the  descent,  by  the  aid  of  the  defences  which  I  have 


154  OF  ARTIFICIAL  FLIGHT 

mentioned  ;  and  its  joints  should  be  made  of  strong 
tanned  hide,  and  sewn  with  cords  of  very  strong  raw 
silk.  And  let  no  one  encumber  himself  with  iron  bands, 
for  these  are  very  soon  broken  at  the  joints  or  else  they 
become  worn  out,  and  consequently  it  is  well  not  to 

encumber  one's  self  with  them. 

(Sul  Poto  degli  Uccclli,  8  [7]  r.) 

AN    ARGUMENT   TO    DISPOSE   OF    THE    OBJECTIONS 
TO   THE    ATTEMPT 

You  will  perhaps  say  that  the  sinews  and  muscles  of 
a  bird  are  incomparably  more  powerful  than  those  of 
man,  because  all  the  girth  of  so  many  muscles  and  of 
the  fleshy  parts  of  the  breast  goes  to  aid  and  increase 
the  movement  of  the  wings,  while  the  bone  in  the  breast 
is  all  in  one  piece  and  consequently  affords  the  bird  very 
great  power,  the  wings  also  being  all  covered  with  a 
network  of  thick  sinews  and  other  very  strong  ligaments 
of  gristle,  and  the  skin  being  very  thick  with  various 
muscles.  But  the  reply  to  this  is  that  such  great  strength 
gives  it  a  reserve  of  power  beyond  what  it  ordinarily  uses 
to  support  itself  on  its  wings,  since  it  is  necessary  for 
it  whenever  it  may  so  desire  either  to  double  or  treble 
its  rate  of  speed  in  order  to  escape  from  its  pursuer 
or  to  follow  its  prey.  Consequently  in  such  a  case  it 
becomes  necessary  for  it  to  put  forth  double  or  treble 
the  amount  of  effort,  and  in  addition  to  this  to  carry 
through  the  air  in  its  talons  a  weight  corresponding  to 
its  own  weight.  So  one  sees  a  falcon  carrying  a  duck 
and  an  eagle  carrying  a  hare  ;  which  circumstance  shows 
clearly  enough  where  the  excess  of  strength  is  spent ;  for 


OF  ARTIFICIAL  FLIGHT  155 

they  need  but  little  force  in  order  to  sustain  themselves, 
and  to  balance  themselves  on  their  wings,  and  flap  them  in 
the  pathway  of  the  wind  and  so  direct  the  course  of  their 
journeyings ;  and  a  slight  movement  of  the  wings  is 
sufficient  for  this,  and  the  movement  will  be  slower  in 
proportion  as  the  bird  is  greater  in  size. 

Man  is  also  possessed  of  a  greater  amount  of  strength 
in  his  legs  than  is  required  by  his  weight.  And  in  order 
to  show  the  truth  of  this,  place  a  man  to  stand  upon 
the  sea-shore,  and  observe  how  far  the  marks  of  his  feet 
sink  in  ;  and  then  set  another  man  on  his  back,  and  you 
will  see  how  much  deeper  the  marks  of  his  feet  will  be. 
Then  take  away  the  man  from  his  back,  and  set  him  to 
jump  straight  up  as  high  as  he  can  ;  you  will  then  find 
that  the  marks  of  his  feet  make  a  deeper  impression 
where  he  has  jumped  than  where  he  has  had  the  other 
man  on  his  back.  This  affords  us  a  double  proof  that 
man  is  possessed  of  more  than  twice  the  amount  of 
strength  that  is  required  to  enable  him  to  support  himself. 

(Sul  Polo  degli  Ucctlli  17  [l 6]  r.) 


BOOK    III 

ART 
I.  PAINTING,  POETRY,  AND  SCULPTURE 

HOW  PAINTING  SURPASSES  ALL  HUMAN  WORKS  BY  REASON 
OF  THE  SUBTLE  POSSIBILITIES  WHICH   IT  CONTAINS 

THE  eye,  which  is  called  the  window  of  the  soul,  is  the 
chief  means  whereby  the  understanding  may  most  fully 
and  abundantly  appreciate  the  infinite  works  of  nature ; 
and  the  ear  is  the  second  inasmuch    as  it    acquires  its 
importance    from   the   fact    that    it   hears    the    things 
which  the  eye  has  seen.     If  you  historians,   or  poets, 
or   mathematicians   had    never   seen   things  with   your 
eyes  you  would  be  ill  able  to  describe  them  in  your 
writings.     And   if  you,   O  poet,  represent   a  story  by 
depicting  it  with  your  pen,  the  painter  with  his  brush 
will  so  render  it  as  to  be  more  easily  satisfying  and  less 
tedious  to  understand.      If  you  call   painting    cdumb 
poetry/  then  the  painter  may  say  of  the  poet  that  his 
art  is  *  blind  painting/     Consider  then  which  is  the  more 
grievous  affliction,  to  be  blind  or  be  dumb  !  I   Although 
the  poet  has  as  wide  a  choice  of  subjects  as  the  painter, 
his  creations  fail  to  afford  as  much  satisfaction  to  man- 
kind as  do  paintings,  for  while   poetry  attempts  with 
words  to  represent  forms,  actions,  and  scenes,  the  painter 


156 


OF  PAINTING  AND  POETRY  157 

employs  the  exact  images  of  the  forms  in  order  to  re- 
produce these  forms.  Consider,  then,  which  is  more 
fundamental  to  man,  the  name  of  man  or  his  image : 
The  name  changes  with  change  of  country  ;  the  form 
is  unchanged  except  by  death. 

And  if  the  poet  selves  the  understanding  by  way  of 
the  ear,  the  painter  does  so  by  the  eye  which  is  the  nobler 
sense.  I  will  only  cite  as  an  instance  of  this  how  if  a 
good  painter  represents  the  fury  of  a  battle  and  a  poet 
also  describes  one,  and  the  two  descriptions  are  shown 
together  to  the  public,  you  will  soon  see  which  will 
draw  most  of  the  spectators,  and  where  there  will  be 
most  discussion,  to  which  most  praise  will  be  given  and 
which  will  satisfy  the  more.  There  is  no  doubt  that  the 
painting  which  is  by  far  the  more  useful  and  beautiful 
will  give  the  greater  pleasure.  Inscribe  in  any  place  the 
name  of  God  and  set  opposite  to  it  his  image,  you  will 
see  which  will  be  held  in  greater  reverence  ! 

Since  painting  embraces  within  itself  all  the  forms  of 
nature  you  have  nothing  omitted  except  the  names,  and 
these  are  not  universal  like  the  forms,  If  you  have  the 
results  of  her  processes  we  have  the  processes  of  her 
results. 

Take  the  case  of  a  poet  describing  the  beauties  of  a 
lady  to  her  lover  and  that  of  a  painter  who  makes  a 
portrait  of  her ;  you  will  see  whither  nature  will  the 
more  incline  the  enamoured  judge.  Surely  the  proof  of 
the  matter  ought  to  rest  upon  the  verdict  of  experience  ! 

You  have  set  painting  among  the  mechanical  arts! 
Truly  were  painters  as  ready  equipped  as  you  are  to 
praise  their  own  works  in  writing  I  doubt  whether  it  would 


158  OF  PAINTING  AND  POETRY 

endure  the  reproach  of  so  vile  a  name.  If  you  call  it 
mechanical  because  it  is  by  manual  work  that  the  hands 
represent  what  the  imagination  creates,  your  writers  are 
setting  down  with  the  pen  by  manual  work  what  origi- 
nates in  the  mind.  If  you  call  it  mechanical  because  it 
is  done  for  money,  who  fall  into  this  error — if  indeed 
it  can  be  called  an  error — more  than  you  yourselves  ? 
If  you  lecture  for  the  Schools  do  you  not  go  to  whoever 
pays  you  the  most  ?  Do  you  do  any  work  without 
some  reward?  And  yet  I  do  not  say  this  in  order  to 
censure  such  opinions,  for  every  labour  looks  for  its 
reward.  And  if  the  poet  should  say,  '  I  will  create  a 
fiction  which  shall  express  great  things,'  so  likewise  will 
the  painter  also,  for  even  so  Apelles  made  the  Calumny. 
If  you  should  say  that  poetry  is  the  more  enduring, — 
to  this  I  would  reply  that  the  works  of  a  coppersmith 
are  more  enduring  still,  since  time  preserves  them  longer 
than  either  your  works  or  ours  ;  nevertheless  they  show 
but  little  imagination  ;  and  painting  if  it  be  done  upon 
copper  in  enamel  colours  can  be  made  far  more  en- 
during. 

In  Art  we  may  be  said  to  be  grandsons  unto  God. 
If  poetry  treats  of  moral  philosophy,  painting  has  to  do 
with  natural  philosophy  ;  if  the  one  describes  the  work- 
ings of  the  mind,  the  other  considers  what  the  mind 
effects  by  movements  of  the  body ;  if  the  one  dismays 
folk  by  hellish  fictions,  the  other  does  the  like  by  show- 
ing the  same  things  in  action.  Suppose  the  poet  sets 
himself  to  represent  some  image  of  beauty  or  terror, 
something  vile  and  foul,  or  some  monstrous  thing,  in 
contest  with  the  painter,  and  suppose  in  his  own  way 


OF  PAINTING  AND  POETRY  159 

he  makes  a  change  of  forms  at  his  pleasure,  will  not  the 
painter  still  satisfy  the  more  ?  Have  we  not  seen  pic- 
tures which  bear  so  close  a  resemblance  to  the  actual 
thing  that  they  have  deceived  both  men  and  beasts  ? 

If  you  know  how  to  describe  and  write  down  the 
appearance  of  the  forms,  the  painter  can  make  them  so 
that  they  appear  enlivened  with  lights  and  shadows 
which  create  the  very  expression  of  the  faces;  herein 
you  cannot  attain  with  the  pen  where  he  attains  with 

the  brush*  (£ib.  Nat.  MS.  2038,  19  r.  and  y.,  20  r. 

So  soon  as  the  poet  ceases  to  represent  in  words  what 
exists  in  nature,  then  the  poet  ceases  to  be  like  the 
painter ;  for  if  the  poet  were  to  leave  such  representa- 
tion and  describe  the  polished  and  persuasive  words  of 
him  whom  he  wishes  to  represent  speaking,  then  he 
becomes  an  orator  and  is  no  longer  a  poet  or  a  painter  ; 
and  if  he  speaks  of  the  heavens  he  becomes  an  astrologer  ; 
and  a  philosopher  and  theologian  when  discoursing  of  the 
works  of  nature  or  of  God,  But  if  he  confines  himself 
to  the  representation  of  specific  objects  he' will  vie  with 
the  painter  only  if  by  his  words  he  can  satisfy  the  eye  to 
the  same  extent  as  he  does. 

{Windsor  MSS.  Notes  et  desrins  sur  la  Generation  [Roureyre],  I  r.), 

HOW    HE    WHO    DESPISES    PAINTING    HAS    NO    LOVE    FOR 
THE    PHILOSOPHY    IN    NATURE 

If  you  despise  painting,  which  is  the  sole  imitator  of 
all  the  visible  works  of  nature,  it  is  certain  that  you  will 
be  despising  a  subtle  invention  which  with  philosophical 
and  ingenious  speculation  takes  as  its  theme  all  the  various 


z6o  OF  PAINTING  AND  SCULPTURE 

kinds  of  forms,  airs,  and  scenes,  plants,  animals,  grasses 
and  flowers,  which  are  surrounded  by  light  and  shade. 
And  this  truly  is  a  science  and  the  true-born  daughter  of 
nature,  since  painting  is  the  offspring  of  nature.  But  in 
order  to  speak  more  correctly  we  may  call  it  the  grand- 
child of  nature  ;  for  all  visible  things  derive  their  exist- 
ence from  nature,  and  from  these  same  things  is  born 
painting.  So  therefore  we  may  justly  speak  of  it  as 
the  grandchild  of  nature  and  as  related  to  God  Him- 
self. (MS.  2038  Bib.  Nat.  20  r.) 

THAT    SCULPTURE    IS    LESS    INTELLECTUAL  THAN    PAINT- 
IMG,    AND    LACKS    MANY    OF    ITS    NATURAL    PARTS 

As  practising  myself  the  art  of  sculpture  no  less  than 
that  of  painting,  and  doing  both  the  one  and  the  other 
in  the  same  degree,  it  seems  to  me  that  without  suspicion 
of  unfairness  I  may  venture  to  give  an  opinion  as  to 
which  of  the  two  is  the  more  intellectual,  and  of  the 
greater   difficulty  and    perfection.     In   the  first    place 
sculpture  is  dependent  on  certain  lights,  namely  those 
from  above,  while  a  picture  carries  everywhere  with  it 
its  own  light  and  shade ;  light  and  shade  therefore  are 
essential  to  sculpture.     In  this  respect  the  sculptor  is 
aided  by  the  nature  of  the  relief  which  produces  these  of 
its  own  accord,  but  the  painter  artificially  creates  them 
by  his  art  in  places  where  nature  would  normally  do  the 
like.     The  sculptor  cannot  render  the  difference  in  the 
varying  natures  of  the  colours  of  objects  ;  painting  does 
not  fail  to  do  so  in  any  particular.    The  lines  of  perspec- 
tive of  sculptors  do  not  seem  in  any  way  true ;  those  of 
painters  may  appear  to  extend  a  hundred  miles  beyond 


OF  PAINTING  AND  SCULPTURE  161 

the  work  itself.  The  effects  of  aerial  perspective  are 
outside  the  scope  of  their  work  ;  they  can  neither  repre- 
sent transparent  bodies  nor  luminous  bodies  nor  angles 
of  reflection  nor  shining  bodies  such  as  mirrors  and  like 
things  of  glittering  surface,  nor  mists,  nor  dull  weather, 
nor  an  infinite  number  of  things  which  I  forbear  to 
mention  lest  they  should  prove  wearisome. 

The  one  advantage  which  it  has  is  that  of  offering 
greater  resistance  to  time;  yet  painting  offers  a  like 
resistance  if  it  is  done  upon  thick  copper  covered  with 
white  enamel  and  then  painted  upon  with  enamel  colours 
and  placed  in  a  fire  and  fused.  In  degree  of  permanence 
it  then  surpasses  even  sculpture.  I 

It  may  be  urged  that  if  a  mistake  is  made  it  is  not 
easy  to  set  it  right,  but  it  is  a  poor  line  of  argument  to 
attempt  to  prove  that  the  fact  of  a  mistake  being  ir- 
remediable makes  the  work  more  noble.  I  should  say 
indeed  that  it  is  more  difficult  to  correct  the  mind  of  the 
master  who  makes  such  mistakes  than  the  work  which 
he  has  spoiled*  We  know  very  well  that  a  good 
experienced  painter  will  not  make  such  mistakes  ;  on  the 
contrary  following  sound  rules  he  will  proceed  by 
removing  so  little  at  a  time  that  his  work  will  progress 
well.  The  sculptor  also  if  he  is  working  in  clay  or  wax 
can  either  take  away  from  it  or  add  to  it,  and  when  the 
model  is  completed  it  is  easy  to  cast  it  in  bronze ;  and 
this  is  the  last  process  and  it  is  the  most  enduring  form 
of  sculpture,  since  that  which  is  only  in  marble  is  liable 
to  be  destroyed,  but  not  when  done  in  bronze. 

But  painting  done  upon  copper,  which  by  the  methods 
in  use  in  painting  may  be  either  taken  from  or  altered, 

L 


X6a  OF  SCULPTURE 

is  like  the  bronze,  for  when  you  have  first  made  the 
model  for  this  in  wax  it  can  still  be  either  reduced  or 
altered.  While  the  sculpture  in  bronze  is  imperish- 
able, this  painting  upon  copper  and  enamel  is  absolutely 
eternal ;  and  while  bronze  remains  dark  and  rough,  this 
is  full  of  an  infinite  variety  of  varied  and  lovely  colours, 
of  which  I  have  already  made  mention.  But  if  you 
would  have  me  speak  only  of  panel  painting  I  am 
content  to  give  an  opinion  between  it  and  sculpture  by 
saying  that  painting  is  more  beautiful,  more  imaginative, 
and  richer  in  resource,  while  sculpture  is  more  enduring, 
but  excels  in  nothing  else.  Sculpture  reveals  what  it  is 
with  little  effort ;  painting  seems  a  thing  miraculous, 
making  things  intangible  appear  tangible,  presenting  in 
relief  things  which  are  flat,  in  distance  things  near  at 
hand.  In  fact  painting  is  adorned  with  infinite  possi- 
bilities of  which  sculpture  can  make  no  use. 

(MS.  2038,  Bib.  Nat.  25  r.  and  24  v.) 

The  sculptor  cannot  represent  transparent  or  luminous 
things.  (C.  A.  215  v.  <£) 

OF   STATUES  , 

If  you  wish  to  make  a  figure  of  marble  make  first  one 
of  clay,  and  after  you  have  finished  it  and  let  it  dry,  set 
it  in  a  case,  which  should  be  sufficiently  large  that — after 
the  figure  has  been  taken-  out — it  can  hold  the  block  of 
marble  wherein  you  purpose  to  lay  bare  a  figure  re- 
sembling that  in  clay.  Then  after  you  have  placed  the 
clay  figure  inside  this  case  make  pegs  so  that  they  fit 
exactly  into  holes  in  the  case,  and  drive  them  in  at  each 
hole  until  each  Fhitg  peg  touches  the  figure  at  a  different 


PLATE  r 


GENISTA  TINCTORIA 
(Dyer?  Gretmvtetf] 

Facep.  163 


QIJERCUS  ROBUR  PEDUNCULATA 
(Stalked  Oak] 


THE  MIND  OF  THE  PAINTER  163 

spot ;  stain  black  such  parts  of  the  pegs  as  project  out 
of  the  case,  and  make  a  distinguishing  mark  for  each  peg 
and  for  its  hole  so  that  you  may  fit  them  together  at 
your  ease.  Then  take  the  clay  model  out  of  the  case 
and  place  the  block  of  marble  in  it,  and  take  away  from 
the  marble  sufficient  for  all  the  pegs  to  be  hidden  in  the 
holes  up  to  their  marks,  and  in  order  to  be  able  to  do 
this  better  make  the  case  so  that  the  whole  of  it  can  be 
lifted  up  and  the  bottom  may  still  remain  under  the 
marble  ;  and  by  this  means  you  will  be  able  to  use  the 
cutting  tools  with  great  readiness.  (A  43  r.) 

II.  THE  PRECEPTS  OF  THE  PAINTER 

PAINTING 

The  mind  of  the  painter  should  be  like  a  mirror 
which  always  takes  the  colour  of  the  thing  that  it  reflects 
and  which  is  filled  by  as  many  images  as  there  are  things 
placed  before  it.  Knowing  therefore  that  you  cannot 
be  a  good  master  unless  you  have'  a  universal  power  of 
representing  by  your  art  all  the  varieties  of  the  forms 
which  nature  produces, — which  indeed  you  will  not  know 
how  to  do  unless  you  see  them  and  retain  them  in  your 
mind, — look  to  it,  O  Painter,  that' when  you  go  into  the 
fields  you  give  your  attention  to  the  various  objects  and 
look  carefully  in  turn  first  at  one  thing  and  then  at  an- 
other, making  a  bundle  of  different  things  selected  and 
chosen  from-  among  those  of  less  value.  And  do  not 
after  the  manner  of  some  painters  who  when  tired  by 
imaginative  work,  lay  aside  their  task  and  take  exercise 
by  walking  in  order  to  find  relaxation,  keeping,  however, 
such  weariness  of  mind  as  prevents  them  either  seeing  or 


164  OF  THE  PROGRESS  OF  PAINTING 

being  conscious  of  different  objects  ;  so  that  often  when 
meeting  friends  or  relatives,  and  being  saluted  by  them, 
although  they  may  see  and  hear  them  they  know  them 
no  more  than  if  they  had  met  only  so  much  air. 

(MS.  2038,  Bib.  Nat.  ^  r.) 

HOW  FROM  AGE  TO  AGE  THE  ART  OF  PAINTING  CON- 
TINUALLY DECLINES  AND  DETERIORATES  WHEN 
PAINTERS  HAVE  NO  OTHER  STANDARD  THAN 
WORK  ALREADY  DONE 

The  painter  will  produce  pictures  of  little  merit  if  he 
takes  the  works  of  others  as  his  standard ;  but  if  he  will 
apply  himself  to  learn  from  the  objects  of  nature  he  will 
produce  good  results.  This  we  see  was  the  case  with  the 
painters  who  came  after  the  time  of  the  Romans,  for 
they  continually  imitated  each  other,  and  from  age  to  age 
their  art  steadily  declined. 

After  these  came  Giotto  the  Florentine,  and  he, 

reared  in  mountain  solitudes,  inhabited  only  by  goats 
and  such  like  beasts — turning  straight  from  nature  to 
his  art,  began  to  draw  on  the  rocks  the  movements  of 
the  goats  which  he  was  tending,  and  so  began  to  draw 
the  figures  of  all  the  animals  which  were  to  be  found  in 
the  country,  in  such  a  way  that  after  much  study  he  not 
only  surpassed  the  masters  of  his  own  time  but  all  those 
of  many  preceding   centuries.      After  him    art   again 
declined,  because  all  were  imitating  paintings  already 
done ;  and  so  for  centuries  it  continued  to  decline  until 
such    time  as    Tommaso    the    Florentine,   nicknamed 
Masaccio,  showed  by  the  perfection  of  his  work  how 
those  who  took  as  their  standard  anything  other  than 


THE  LIFE  OF  THE  PAINTER  165 

nature,  the  supreme  guide  of  all  the  masters,  were 
wearying  themselves  in  vain*  Similarly  I  would  say  as 
to  these  mathematical  subjects,  that  those  who  study  only 
the  authorities  and  not  the  works  of  nature  are  in  art 
the  grandsons  and  not  the  sons  of  nature,  which  is  the 
supreme  guide  of  the  good  authorities. 

Mark  the  supreme  folly  of  those  who  censure  such  as 
learn  from  nature,  leaving  uncensured  the  authorities  who 
were  the  disciples  of  this  same  nature  !  (C.  A.  141  r.  £.) 

THE    LIFE    OF    THE    PAINTER    IN    THE    COUNTRY 

The  painter  requires  such  knowledge  of  mathematics 
as  belongs  to  painting,  and  severance  from  companions 
who  are  not  in  sympathy  with  his  studies,  and  his  brain 
should  have  the  power  of  adapting  itself  to  the  tenor  of 
the  objects  which  present  themselves  before  it,  and  he 
should  be  freed  from  all  other  cares. 

And  if  while  considering  and  examining  one  subject  a 
second  should  intervene,  as  happens  when  an  object 
occupies  the  mind,  he  ought  to  decide  which  of  these 
subjects  presents  greater  difficulties  in  investigation,  and 
follow  that  until  it  becomes  entirely  clear,  and  afterwards 
pursue  the  investigation  of  the  other.  And  above  all  he 
should  keep  his  mind  as  clear  as  the  surface  of  a  mirror, 
which  becomes  changed  to  as  many  different  colours  as 
are  those  of  the  objects  within  it,  and  his  companions 
should  resemble  him  in  a  taste  for  these  studies,  and  if 
he  fail  to  find  any  such  he  should  accustom  himself  to 
be  alone  in  his  investigations,  for  in  the  end  he  will  find 
no  more  profitable  companionship.  (C.  A.  184  v.  r.) 


i66  THE  LIFE  OF  THE  PAINTER 

OF   THE    LIFE    OF  THE    PAINTER    IN    HIS    STUDIO. 

The  painter  or  draughtsman  ought  to  be  solitary  in 
order  that  the  well-being  of  the  body  may  not  sap  the 
vigour  of  the  mind,  and  more  especially  when  he  is 
occupied  with  the  consideration  and  investigation  of 
things  which  by  being  continually  present  before  his 
eyes  furnish  food  to  be  treasured  up  in  the  memory. 

If  you  are  alone  you  belong  entirely  to  yourself ;  if  you 
are  accompanied  even  by  one  companion  you  belong  only 
half  to  yourself,  or  even  less  in  proportion  to  the  thought- 
lessness of  his  conduct ;  and  if  you  have  more  than  one 
companion  you  will  fall  more  deeply  into  the  same  plight. 

If  you  should  say,  *  I  will  take  my  own  course  ;  I  will 
retire  apart,  so  that  I  may  be  the  better  able  to  investigate 
the  forms  of  natural  objects,'  then  I  say  this  must  needs 
turn  out  badly,  for  you  will  not  be  able  to  prevent  your- 
self from  often  lending  an  ear  to  their  chatter  ;  and  not 
being  able  to  serve  two  masters,  you  will  discharge 
badly  the  duty  of  companionship  and  even  worse  that 
of  endeavouring  to  realise  your  conceptions  in  art. 

But  suppose  you  say,  CI  will  withdraw  so  far  apart 
that  their  words  shall  not  reach  me  nor  in  any  way  dis- 
turb me,'  I  reply  that  in  this  case  you  will  be  looked 
upon  as  mad,  and  bear  in  mind  that  in  so  doing  you 
will  then  be  solitary. 

If  you  must  have  companionship  choose  it  from  your 
studio ;  it  may  then  help  you  to  obtain  the  advantages 
which  result  from  different  methods  of  study.  All 
other  companionship  may  prove  extremely  harmful. 

(MS.  2038,  Bib.  Nat.  27  v.  and  r.) 


THE  PROVINCE  OF  THE  PAINTER  167 

HOW    THE    PAINTER    IS    NOT   WORTHY    OF    PRAISE 
UNLESS    HE    IS    UNIVERSAL 

We  may  frankly  admit  that  certain  people  deceive 
themselves  who  apply  the  title  *a  good  master'  to  a 
painter  who  can  only  do  the  head  or  the  figure  well. 
Surely  it  is  no  great  achievement  if  by  studying  one 
thing  only  during  his  whole  lifetime  he  attain  to  some 
degree  of  excellence  therein  !  But  since,  as  we  know, 
painting  embraces  and  contains  within  itself  all  the  things 
which  nature  produces  or  which  result  from  the  fortui- 
tous actions  of  men,  and  in  short  whatever  can  be  com- 
prehended by  the  eyes,  it  would  seem  to  me  that  he  is 
but  a  poor  master  who  only  makes  a  single  figure  well. 
For  do  you  not  see  how  many  and  how  varied  are  the 
actions  which  are  performed  by  men  alone?  Do  you 
not  see  how  many  different  kinds  of  animals  there  are, 
and  also  of  trees  and  plants  and  flowers  ?  What  variety 
of  hilly  and  level  places,  of  springs,  rivers,  cities,  public 
and  private  buildings ;  of  instruments  fitted  for  man's 
use ;  of  divers  costumes,  ornaments,  and  arts  ? — 
Things  which  should  be  rendered  with  equal  facility 
and  grace  by  whoever  you  wish  to  call  a  good  painter. 

(MS.  2038,  Bib.  Nat.  25  *.) 

HOW   THE    MIRROR    IS    THE    MASTER    OF    PAINTERS 

When  you  wish  to  see  whether  the  general  effect  of 
your  picture  corresponds  with  that  of  the  object  repre- 
sented after  nature,  take  a  mirror  and  set  it  so  that  it 
reflects  the  actual  thing,  and  then  compare  the  reflec- 
tion  with  your  picture,  and  consider  carefully  whether 


168          THE  MIRROR  A  TEST  OF  PAINTING 

the  subject  of  the  two  images  is  in  conformity  with  both, 
studying  especially  the  mirror.     The  mirror  ought  to 
be  taken  as  a  guide, — that  is  the  flat  mirror — for  within 
its  surface  substances  have  many  points  of  resemblance 
to  a  picture;  namely  that  you  see  the  picture  made 
upon  one  plane  showing  things  which  appear  in  relief, 
and  the  mirror  upon  one  plane  does  the  same.     The 
picture  is  one  single  surface,  and  the  mirror  is  the  same. 
The   picture  is  intangible,   inasmuch  as  what  appears 
round  and  detached  cannot  be  enclosed  within  the  hands, 
and  the  mirror  is  the  same.     The  mirror  and  the  pic- 
ture present  the  images  of  things  surrounded  by  shadow 
and  light,  and  each  alike  seems  to  project  considerably 
from  the  plane  of  its  surface.     And  since  you  know 
that  the  mirror  presents   detached  things  to  you  by 
means  of  outlines  and  shadows  and  lights,  and  since 
you  have  moreover  amongst  your  colours  more  power- 
ful shadows  and  lights  than  those  of  the  mirror,  it  is 
certain  that  if  you  but  know  well  how  to  compose  y<pur 
picture  it  will  also  seem  a  natural  thing  seen  in  a  great 
mirror.  (MS.  2038,  Bib.  Nat.  24  «/.) 

Painters  oftentimes  deceive  themselves  by  representing 
water  in  which  they  render  visible  what  is  seen  by 
man ;  whereas  the  water  sees  the  object  from  one  side 
and  the  man  sees  it  from  the  other ;  and  it  frequently 
happens  that  the  painter  will  see  a  thing  from  above 
and  the  water  sees  it  from  beneath,  and  so  the  same 
body  is  seen  in  front  and  behind,  and  above  and  below, 
for  the  water  reflects  the  image  of  the  object  in  one 
way  and  the  eye  sees  it  in  another.  (c.  A.  354  v.  a.) 


DIRECTIONS  FOR  STUDY  169 


OF  JUDGING    YOUR  OWN    PICTURE 

We  know  well  that  mistakes  are  more  easily  detected 
in  the  works  of  others  than  in  one's  own,  and  that  often- 
times while  censuring  the  small  faults  of  others  you  will 
overlook   your  own  great  faults.     In  order  to  avoid 
such  ignorance  make  yourself  first  of  all  a  master  of 
perspective,  then  gain  a  complete  knowledge  of  the  pro- 
portions  of  man  and  other  animals,   and  also  make 
yourself  a  good  architect,  that  is  in  so  far  as  concerns 
the  form  of  the  buildings  and  of  the  other  things  which 
are  upon  the  earth,  which  are  infinite  in  form ;  and  the 
more  knowledge  you  have  of  these  the  more  will  your 
work  be  worthy  of  praise  ;  and  for  those  things  in  which 
you  have  no  practice  do  not  disdain  to  draw  from  nature. 
But  to  return  to  what  has  been  promised  above,  I  say 
that  when  you  are  painting  you  should  take  a  flat  mirror 
and  often  look  at  your  work  within  it,  and  it  will  then 
be  seen  in  reverse,  and  will  appear  to  be  by  the  hand  of 
some  other  master,  and  you  will  be  better  able  to  judge 
of  its  faults  than  in  any  other  way.     It  is  also  a  good 
plan  every  now  and  then  to  go  away  and  have  a  little 
relaxation ;  for  then  when  you  come  back  to  the  work 
your  judgment  will  be  surer,  since  to  remain  constantly 
at  work  will  cause  you  to  lose  the  power  of  judgment. 
It  is  also  advisable  to  go  some  distance  away,  because 
then  the  work  appears  smaller,  and  more  of  it  is  taken 
in  at  a  glance,  and  a  lack  of  harmony  or  proportion  in 
the  various  parts  and  in  the  colours  of  the  objects  is 
more  readily  seen.  (MS.  2038,  Bit.  Nat.  z8  r.) 


i7o  THE  PROVINCE  OF  THE  PAINTER 

OF    VARIETY    IN    FIGURES 

The  painter  ought  to  strive  at  being  universal,  for 
there  is  a  great  lack  of  dignity  in  doing  one  thing 
well  and  another  badly,  like  many  who  study  only  the 
measurements  and  proportions  of  the  nude  figure  and 
do  not  seek  after  its  variety  ;  for  a  man  may  be  properly 
proportioned  and  yet  be  fat  and  short  or  long  and  thin, 
or  medium.  And  whoever  does  not  take  count  of  these 
varieties  will  always  make  his  figures  in  one  mould  so 
that  they  will  all  appear  sisters,  and  this  practice  deserves 
severe  censure. 

OF   THE    ORDER    OF    ACQUIRING    THIS    UNIVERSALITY 

It  is  an  easy  matter  for  whoever  knows  how  to  re- 
present man  to  afterwards  acquire  this  universality,  for 
all  the  animals  which  live  upon  the  earth  resemble  each 
other  in  their  limbs,  that  is  in  muscles,  sinews,  and 
bones,  and  they  do  not  vary  at  all,  except  in  length 
or  thickness  as  will  be  shown  in  the  Anatomy.  There 
are  also  the  aquatic  animals,  of  which  there  are  many 
different  kinds  ;  and  with  regard  to  these  I  do  not  advise 
the  painter  to  make  a  fixed  standard>  for  they  are  of 
almost  infinite  variety ;  and  the  same  is  also  true  of 
the  insect  world.  (G  5  v.) 

HOW  THE  PAINTER  OUGHT  TO  BE  DESIROUS  OF  HEAR- 
ING EVERY  MAN'S  OPINION  AS  TO  THE  PROGRESS 
OF  HIS  WORK 

Surely  when  a  man  is  painting  a  picture  he  ought  not 
to  feftise  to  hear  any  man's  opinion,  for  we  know  very 


OF  CRITICISM  171 

well  that  though  a  man  may  not  be  a  painter,  he  has 
a  true  conception  of  the  form  of  another  man  and  will 
judge  aright  whether  he  is  hump-backed  or  has  one 
shoulder  high  or  low,  or  whether  he  has  a  large  mouth 
or  nose  or  other  defects. 

Since  then  we  recognise  that  men  are  able  to  form  a 
true  judgment  as  to  the  works  of  nature,  how  much  the 
more  does  it  behove  us  to  admit  that  they  are  able  to 
judge  our  faults.  For  you  know  how  much  a  man  is 
deceived  in  his  own  works,  and  if  you  do  not  recognise 
this  in  your  own  case  observe  it  in  others  and  then  you 
will  profit  by  their  mistakes.  Therefore  you  should  be 
desirous  of  hearing  patiently  the  opinions  of  others,  and 
consider  and  reflect  carefully  whether  or  no  he  who 
censures  you  has  reason  for  his  censure ;  and  correct 
your  work  if  you  find  that  he  is  right,  but  if  not,  then 
let  it  seem  that  you  have  not  understood  him,  or — in 
case  he  is  a  man  whom  you  esteem — show  him  by 
argument  why  it  is  that  he  is  mistaken. 

(MS.  2038,  Bib.  Nat.  26  r.) 

HOW  IN  WORKS  OF  IMPORTANCE  A  MAN  SHOULD  NOT 
TRUST  SO  ENTIRELY  TO  HIS  MEMORY  AS  TO  DISDAIN 
TO  DRAW  FROM  NATURE 

Any  master  who  let  it  be  understood  that  he  could 
himself  recall  all  the  forms  and  effects  of  nature  would 
certainly  appear  to  me  to  be  endowed  with  great 
ignorance,  considering  that  these  effects  are  infinite  and 
that  our  memory  is  not  of  so  great  capacity  as  to  suffice 
thereto.  Do  you  therefore,  O  Painter,  take  care  lest  the 


172  OF  METHODS  OF  STUDY 

greed  for  gain  prove  a  stronger  incentive  than  renown 
in  art,  for  to  gain  this  renown  is  a  far  greater  thing  than 
is  the  renown  of  riches.     For  these,  then,  and  other 
reasons  which  might  be  given,  you  should  apply  yourself 
first  of  all  to  drawing  in  order  to  present  to  the  eye  in 
visible  form  the  purpose  and  invention  created  originally 
in  your  imagination  ;  then  proceed  to  take  from  or  add 
to  it  until  you  satisfy  yourself;  then  have  men  arranged 
as  models  draped  or  nude  in  the  way  in  which  you  have 
disposed  them  in  your  work  ;  and  make  the  proportions 
and  size  in  accordance  with  perspective,  so  that  no  part 
of  the  work  remains  that  is  not  so  counselled  by  reason 
and  by  the  effects  in  nature.     And  this  will  be  the  way 
to  make  yourself  renowned  in  your  art. 

(MS.  2038,  Bib.  Nat.  26  r.) 


OF    STUDYING    AS    SOON    AS    YOU    ARE   AWAKE    OR    BEFORE 
YOU   GO   TO    SLEEP    IN    BED    IN    THE    DARK 

I  have  proved  in  my  own  case  that  it  is  of  no  small 
benefit  on  finding  oneself  in  bed  in  the  dark  to  go 
over  again  in  the  imagination  the  main  outlines  of  the 
forms  previously  studied,  or  of  other  noteworthy  things 
conceived  by  ingenious  speculation ;  and  this  exercise  is 
entirely  to  be  commended,  and  it  is  useful  in  fixing 
things  in  the  memory.  (MS.  2038,  Bib.  Nat.  26  r.) 

A  WAY   TO   STIMULATE   AND  AROUSE   THE   MIND  TO 
VARIOUS   INVENTIONS 

I  will  not  refrain  from  setting  among  these  precepts 


OF  DEVICES  FOR  PAINTERS  173 

a  new  device  for  consideration  which,  although  it  may 
appear  trivial  and  almost  ludicrous,  is  nevertheless  of 
great  utility  in  arousing  the  mind  to  various  inventions. 
And  this  is  that  if  you  look  at  any  walls  spotted  with 
various  stains  or  with  a  mixture  of  different  kinds  of 
stones,  if  you  are  about  to  invent  some  scene  you  will 
be  able  to  see  in  it  a  resemblance  to  various  different 
landscapes  adorned  with  mountains,  rivers,  rocks,  trees, 
plains,  wide  valleys,  and  various  groups  of  hills.  You 
will  also  be  able  to  see  divers  combats  and  figures  in 
quick  movement,  and  strange  expressions  of  faces,  and 
outlandish  costumes,  and  an  infinite  number  of  things 
which  you  can  then  reduce  into  separate  and  well  con- 
ceived forms.  With  such  walls  and  blends  of  different 
stones  it  comes  about  as  it  does  with  the  sound  of  bells, 
in  whose  clanging  you  may  discover  every  name  and 
word  that  you  can  imagine. 

(MS.  2038,  Bib.  Nat.  22  v.) 


OF    THE    GAMES    IN    WHICH    DRAUGHTSMEN 
SHOULD    INDULGE 

When  you  draughtsmen  wish  to  find  some  profitable 
recreation  in  games  you  should  always  practise  things 
which  may  be  of  use  in  your  profession,  that  is  by 
giving  your  eye  accuracy  of  judgment  so  that  it  may 
know  how  to  estimate  the  truth  as  to  the  length  and 
breadth  of  objects.  So  in  order  to  accustom  the  mind 
to  such  things  let  one  of  you  draw  a  straight  line  any- 
where on  a  wall,  and  then  let  each  of  you  take  a  light 


174  OF  THE  TIME  FOR  STUDY 

rush  or  straw  in  his  hand,  and  let  each  cut  his  own  to 
the  length  which  the  first  line  appears  to  him  when  he 
is  distant  from  it  a  space  of  ten  braccia,  and  then  let 
each  go  up  to  the  copy  in  order  to  measure  it  against 
the  length  which  he  has  judged  it  to  be,  and  he  whose 
measure  comes  nearest  to  the  "length  of  the  copy  has 
done  best  and  is  the  winner,  and  he  should  receive  from 
all  the  prize  which  was  previously  agreed  upon  by 
you.  Furthermore  you  should  take  measurements  fore- 
shortened, that  is,  you  should  take  a  spear  or  some  other 
stick  and  look  before  you  to  a  certain  point  of  distance, 
and  then  let  each  set  himself  to  reckon  how  many  times 
this  measure  is  contained  in  the  said  distance.  Another 
thing  is  to  see  who  can  draw  the  best  line  one  braccio  in 
length,  and  this  may  be  tested  by  tightly  drawn  thread. 
Diversions  such  as  these  enable  the  eye  to  acquire 
accuracy  of  judgment,  and  this  'is  the  primary  essential 
of  painting.  (MS.  2038,  Bib.  Nat.  26  p.) 

Painters  have  a  good  opportunity  of  observing  actions 
in  players,  especially  at  ball  or  tennis  or  with  the  mallet 
when  they  are  contending  together,  better  indeed  than 
in  any  other  place  or  exercise.  (/  ±$  v\ 


OF   THE    PROPER    TIME    FOR    STUDYING   THE    SELECTION 
OF   SUBJECTS 

The  winter  evenings  should  be  spent  by  youthful 
students  in  study  of  the  things  prepared  during  the 
summer  ;  that  is,  all  the  drawings  from  the  nude  which 
you  have  made  in  the  summer  should  be  brought 


OF  THE  APTITUDE  FOR  PAINTING  175 

together,  and  you  should  make  a  choice  from  among 
them  of  the  best  limbs  and  bodies  and  practise  at  these 
and  learn  them  by  heart. 

OF   ATTITUDES 

Afterwards  in  the  ensuing  summer  you  should  make 
choice  of  some  one  who  has  a  good  presence,  and  has 
not  been  brought  up  to  wear  doublets,  and  whose  figure 
consequently  has  not  lost  its  natural  bearing,  and  make 
him  go  through  various  graceful  and  elegant  movements. 
If  he  fails  to  show  the  muscles  very  clearly  within  the 
outlines  of  the  limbs,  this  is  of  no  consequence.  It  is 
enough  for  you  merely  to  obtain  good  attitudes  from 
the  figure,  and  you  can  correct  the  limbs  by  those  which 
you  have  studied  during  the  winter. 

(MS.  2038,  Bib.  Nat.  27  r.) 

AN    INDICATION    WHETHER    A    YOUTH    HAS    AN  APTITUDE 
FOR    PAINTING 

There  are  many  men  who  have  a  desire  and  love  for 
drawing  but  no  aptitude  for  it,  and  this  can  be  discerned 
in  children  if  they  are  not  diligent  and  never  finish  their 
copies  with  shading. 

The  painter  is  not  worthy  of  praise  who  only  does 
one  thing  well,  as  the  nude,  or  a  head,  or  draperies,  or 
animal  life,  or  landscapes,  or  such  other  special  subject, 
for  there  is  no  one  so  dull  of  understanding  that  after 
devoting  himself  to  one  subject  only  and  continually 
practising  at  this,  he  will  fail  to  do  it  well. 


i76  PRECEPTS  OF  PAINTING 

PAINTING 

Men  and  words  are  actual,  and  you,  painter,  if  you 
do  not  know  how  to  execute  your  figures,  will  be 
like  an  orator  who  does  not  know  how  to  use  his 
words.  (K  1 10  [30]  #„) 

The  painter  who  draws  by  practice  and  judgment  of 
the  eye  without  the  use  of  reason,  is  like  the  mirror 
which  reproduces  within  itself  all  the  objects  which  are 
set  opposite  to  it  without  knowledge  of  the  same. 

(C.  A.  76  r.  a.) 

THIS    RULE    OUGHT    TO    BE    GIVEN    TO    CHILDREN 
WHO   PAINT 

We  know  clearly  that  the  sight  is  one  of  the  swiftest 
actions  that  can  exist,  for  in  the  same  instant  it  surveys 
an  infinite  number  of  forms ;  nevertheless  it  can  only 
comprehend  one  thing  at  a  time.  To  take  an  instance  : 
you,  O  Reader,  might  at  a  glance  look  at  the  whole  of 
this  written  page  and  you  would  instantly  decide  that 
it  is  full  of  various  letters,  but  you  will  not  recognise 
in  this  space  of  time  either  what  letters  they  are  or  what 
they  purport  to  say,  and  therefore  it  is  necessary  for  you 
if  you  wish  to  gain  a  knowledge  of  these  letters  to  take 
them  word  by  word  and  line  by  line.  Again,  if  you 
wish  to  go  up  to  the  summit  of  a  building  it  will  be 
necessary  for  you  to  ascend  step  by  step,  otherwise  it 
will  be  impossible  to  reach  the  top.  So  I  say  to  you 
whom  nature  inclines  to  this  art,  if  you  would  have  a 
true  knowledge  of  the  forms  of  different  objects  you 


PRECEPTS  OF  PAINTING  177 

should  commence  with  their  details  and  not  pass  on  to 
the  second  until  the  first  is  well  in  your  memory  and 
you  have  practised  it.  If  you  do  otherwise  you  will  be 
throwing  away  time,  and  to  a  certainty  you  will  greatly 
prolong  the  period  of  study-  And  remember  to  acquire 

diligence  rather  than  facility. 

(MS.  2038,  Bib*  Nat.  z8  r.) 

HOW    ONE    OUGHT   FIRST   TO    LEARN    DILIGENCE   RATHER 
THAN    RAPID    EXECUTION 

If  as  draughtsman  you  wish  to  study  well  and  pro- 
fitably, accustom  yourself  when  you  are  drawing  to  work 
slowly,  and  to  determine  between  the  various  lights 
which  possess  the  highest  degree  of  brightness  and  in 
what  measure,  and  similarly  as  to  the  shadows  which  are 
those  that  are  darker  than  the  rest,  and  in  what  manner 
they  mingle  together,  and  to  compare  their  dimensions 
one  with  another  ;  and  so  with  the  contours  to  observe 
which  way  they  are  tending,  and  as  to  the  lines  what 
part  of  each  is  curved  in  one  way  or  another,  and  where 
they  are  more  or  less  conspicuous  and  consequently  thick 
or  fine ;  and  lastly  to  see  that  your  shadows  and  lights 
may  blend  without  strokes  or  lines  in  the  manner  of 
smoke.  And  when  you  shall  have  trained  your  hand 
and  judgment  with  this  degree  of  care,  it  mil  speedily 
come  to  pass  that  you  will  have  no  need  to  take  thought 
thereto.  (MS.  2038,  JB&  Nat.  27  v.) 

OF   THE   ORDER   TO    BE   OBSERVED    IN    STUDY 

I  say  that  one  ought  first  to  learn  about  the  limbs 
and  how  they  are  worked,  and  after  having  completed 


i78  OF  METHODS  OF  STUDY 

this  knowledge  one  ought  to  study  their  actions  in  the 
different  conditions  in  which  men  are  placed,  and  thirdly 
to  devise  figure  compositions,  the  studies  for  these  4be5ng 
taken  from  natural  actions  made  on  occasion  as  oppor- 
tunities offered,  and  one  should  be  on  the  watch  in  the 
streets  and  squares  and  fields,  and  there  make  sketches 
with  rapid  strokes  to  represent  features,  that  is  for  a 
head  one  may  make  an  0,  and  for  an  arm  a  straight  or 
curved  line,  and  so  in  like  manner  for  the  legs  and 
trunk,  afterwards  when  back  at  home  working  up  these 
notes  in  a  completed  form. 

My  opponent  says  that  in  order  to  gain  experience 
and  to  learn  how  to  work  readily,  it  is  better  that  the 
first  period  of  study  should  be  spent  in  copying  various 
compositions  made  by  different  masters  either  on  sheets 
of  paper  or  on  walls,  since  from  these  one  acquires 
rapidity  in  execution  and  a  good  method.  But  to  this 
it  may  be  replied  that  the  ensuing  method  would  be 
good  if  it  was  founded  upon  works  that  were  excellent 
in  composition  and  by  diligent  masters  ;  and  since  such 
masters  are  so  rare  that  few  are  to  be  found,  it  is  safer 
to  go  direct  to  the  works  of  nature  than  to  those 
which  have  been  imitated  from  her  originals  with  great 
deterioration  and  thereby  to  acquire  a  bad  method, 
for  he  who  has  access  to  the  fountain  does  not  go  to 
the  water-pot.  (C.  Am  I9g  9f  A) 

THE   ORDER    OF    LEARNING   TO   DRAW 

First  of  all  copy  drawings  by  a  good  master  made  by 
his  art  from  nature  and  not  as  exercises ;  then  from  a 


HOW  TO  STUDY  FACES  179 

relief,  keeping  by  you  z  drawing  done  from  the  same 
relief ;  then  from  a  good  model,  and  of  this  you  ought 
to  make  a  practice.  (MS.  2038,  Bib.  Nat.  33  r.) 

OF   THE    WAY    TO    FIX    IN    YOUR   MIND   THE    FORM 
OF   A    FACE 

If  you  desire  to  acquire  facility  in  keeping  in  your 
mind  the  expression  of  a  face,  first  learn  by  heart  the 
various  different  kinds  of  heads,  eyes,  noses,  mouths, 
chins,  throats,  and  also  necks  and  shoulders.    To  take 
as  an  instance  noses.    They  are  of  ten  types  :  straight, 
bulbous,  deep-set,  prominent  either  above  or  below  the 
centre,  aquiline,  regular,  ape-like,  round,  and  pointed. 
These  divisions  hold  good  as  regards  profile.    Seen  from 
in  front  noses  are  of  twelve  types  :  thick  in  the  middle, 
thin  in  the  middle,  with  the  tip  broad  and  narrow  at  the 
base,  or  narrow  at  the  tip  and  broad  at  the  base,  with 
nostrils  broad  or  narrow,  or  high  or  low,  and  with  the 
openings  either  distended  or  hidden  by  the  tip.    And 
similarly  you  "will  find  variety  in  the  other  features  ;  of 
which  things  you  ought  to  make  studies  from  nature  and 
so  fix  them  in  your  mind.     Or  when  you  have  to  draw 
a  face  from  memory,  carry  with  you  a  small  note-book 
in  which  you  have  noted  down  such  features,  and  then 
when  you  have  cast  a  glance  at  the  face  of  the  person 
whom  you  wish  to  draw,  you  can  then  look  privately 
and  see  which  nose  or  mouth  has  a  resemblance  to  it, 
and  make  a  tiny  mark  against  it  in  order  to  recognise 
it  again  at   home.      Of  monstrous   faces   I  here  say 
nothing,  for  they  are  kept  in  mind  without  difficulty. 

(MS.  2038,  Btl>,  Nut.  26  r.) 


i8o  OF  FACES  AND  LIMBS 

OF   THE    PARTS    OF   THE    FACE 

If  nature  had  only  one  fixed  standard  for  the  propor- 
tions of  the  various  parts,  then  the  faces  of  all  men 
would  resemble  each  other  to  such  a  degree  that  it  would 
be  impossible  to  distinguish  one  from  another  ;  but  she 
has  varied  the  five  parts  of  the  face  in  such  a  way  that 
although  she  has  made  an  almost  universal  standard  as 
to  their  size  she  has  not  observed  it  in  the  various  con- 
ditions to  such  a  degree  as  to  prevent  one  from  being 
clearly  distinguished  from  another.  (C.  A*  ng  v.  a.) 

OF   THE  ARRANGEMENT    OF   THE    LI&BS 

As  regards  the  arrangement  of  the  limbs,  you  should 
bear  in  mind  that  when  you  wish  to  represent  one  who 
by  some  chance  has  either  to  turn  backwards  or  on  one 
side  you  must  not  make  him  move  his  feet  and  all  his 
limbs  in  the  same  direction  as  he  turns  his  head ;  but 
you  should  show  the  process  spreading  itself  and  taking 
effect  over  the  four  sets  of  joints,  namely  those  of  ,the 
foot,  the  knee,  the  hip,  and  the  neck.     And  if  you  let 
his  weight  rest  on  the  right  leg,  you  should  make  the 
knee  of  the  left  bend  inwards  ;  and  the  foot  of  it  should 
be  slightly  raised  on  the  outside,  and  the  left  shoulder 
should  be  somewhat  lower  than  the  right ;  and  the  nape 
of  the  neck  should  be  exactly  above  the  outer  curve  of 
the  ankle  of  the  left  foot,  and  the  left  shoulder  should 
be  above  the  toe  of  the  right  foot  in  a  perpendicular 
line.    <And  always  so  dispose  your  figures  that  the 
direction  in  which  the  head  is  turned  is  not  that  in 
which  the  breast  faces,  since  nature  has  for  our  con- 


OF  LIMBS  181 

venience  so  formed  the  neck  that  it  can  easily  serve  the 
different  occasions  on  which  the  eye  desires  to  turn  in 
various  directions;  and  to  this  same  organ  the  other 
joints  are  in  part  responsive.  And  if  ever  you  show  a 
man  sitting  with  his  hands  at  work  upon  something  by 
his  side,  make  the  chest  turn  upon  the  hip-joints. 

(MS.  2038,  Bib.  Nat.  30  n) 

OF   PAINTING 

If  you  have  to  represent  a  man  either  as  moving  or 
lifting  or  pulling  or  carrying  a  weight  equal  to  his  own 
weight  how  ought  you  to  fit  the  legs  under  his  body  ? 

(C.  A.  349  r.  £) 

OF   THE   CONFORMITY   OF   THE   LIMBS 

Further  I  remind  you  to  pay  great  attention  in  giving 
limbs  to  your  figures  so  that  they  may  not  merely  appear 
to  harmonise  with  the  size  of  the  body  but  also  with 
its  age.  So  the  limbs  of  youths  should  have  few  muscles 
and  veins,  and  have  a  soft  surface  and  be  rounded  and 
pleasing  in  colour ;  in  men  they  should  be  sinewy  and 
full  of  muscles;  in  old  men  the  surface  should  be 
wrinkled,  and  rough  and  covered  with  veins,  and  with 
the  sinews  greatly  protruding. 

HOW    LITTLE    CHILDREN    HAVE    THEIR    JOINTS   THE    RE- 
VERSE   OF  THOSE   OF   MEN    IN    THEIR   THICKNESS 

Little  children  have  all  the  joints  slender  while  the 
intervening  parts  are  thick ;  and  this  is  due  to  the  fact 
that  the  joints  are  only  covered  by  skin  and  there  is  no 


1 82  OF  LIMBS 

flesh  at  all  over  them,  and  this  skin  acts  as  a  sinew  to  gird 
and  bind  together  the  bones  ;  and  a  flabby  layer  of  flesh 
is  found  between  one  joint  and  the  next  shut  in  between 
the  skin  and  the  bone.  But  since  the  bones  are  thicker  at 
the  joints  than  between  them,  the  flesh  as  the  man  grows 
up  loses  that  superfluity  which  existed  between  the  skin 
and  the  bone,  and  so  the  skin  is  drawn  nearer  to  the  bone 
and  causes  the  limbs  to  seem  more  slender.  But  since 
there  is  nothing  above  the  joints  except  cartilaginous 
and  sinewy  skin  this  cannot  dry  up,  and  not  being  dried 
up  it  does  not  shrink.  So  for  these  reasons  the  limbs  of 
children  are  slender  at  the  joints  and  thick  between  the 
joints,  as  is  seen  in  the  joints  of  the  fingers,  arms,  and 
shoulders  which  are  slender  and  have  great  dimples  ;  and 
a  man  on  the  contrary  has  all  the  joints  of  fingers,  arms, 
and  legs  thick,  and  where  children  have  hollows  men  have 
the  joints  protruding.  (MS.  2038,  Bib.  Nat.  28  *.) 

OF   THE   GRACE    OF  THE    LIMBS 

The  limbs  should  fit  the  body  gracefully  in  harmony 
with  the  effect  you  wish  the  figure  to  produce  ;  and  if 
you  desire  to  create  a  figure  which  shall  possess  a  charm 
of  its  own,  you  should  make  it  with  limbs  graceful  and 
extended,  without  showing  too  many  of  the  muscles, 
and  the  few  which  your  purpose  requires  you  to  show 
indicate  briefly,  that  is  without  giving  them  prominence 
and  with  the  shadows  not  sharply  defined,  and  the  limbs, 
and  especially  the  arms,  should  be  easy,  that  is  that  no 
limb  should  be  in  a  straight  line  with  the  part  that  ad- 
joins it.  And  if  the  hips,  which  form  as  it  were  the 
poles  of  the  man,  are  by  his  position  placed  so  that  the 


OF  THE  MUSCLES  183 

rignt  is  higher  than  the  left,  you  should  make  the  top 
shoulder  joint  so  that  a  line  drawn  from  it  perpendicu- 
larly falls  on  the  most  prominent  part  of  the  hip,  and 
let  this  right  shoulder  be  lower  than  the  left.  And  let 
the  hollow  of  the  throat  always  be  exactly  over  the 
middle  of  the  joint  of  the  foot  which  is  resting  on  the 
ground.  The  leg  which  does  not  support  the  weight 
should  have  its  knee  below  the  other  and  near  to  the 
other  leg. 

The  positions  of  the  head  and  arms  are  numberless, 
and  therefore  I  will  not  attempt  to  give  any  rule;  it 
will  suffice  that  they  should  be  natural  and  pleasing  and 
should  bend  and  turn  in  various  ways,  with  the  joints 
moving  freely  so  that  they  may  not  seem  like  pieces  of 

Wood.  (MS.  2038,  Bib.  Nat.  29  ft.) 

PAINTING 

O  painter  skilled  in  anatomy,  beware  lest  the  undue 
prominence  of  the  bones,  sinews,  and  muscles  cause  you 
to  become  a  wooden  painter  from  the  desire  to  make 
your  nude  figures  reveal  all  their  emotions.  And  if  you 
wish  to  remedy  this  you  should  consider  in  what  way  the 
muscles  of  old  or  lean  persons  cover  or  clothe  the  bones, 
and  futhermore  note  the  principle  on  which  these  same 
muscles  fill  up  the  spaces  of  the  surface  which  come 
between  them,  and  which  are  the  muscles  that  never 
lose  their  prominence  in  any  degree  of  fatness  what- 
soever, and  which  those  whereof  the  tendons  become 
indistinguishable  at  the  least  suggestion  of  it.  And 
there  are  many  cases  when  several  muscles  grow  to  look 
one  from  the  increase  of  fat,  and  many  in  which  when 


184  OF  THE  MUSCLES 

any  one  becomes  lean  or  old  a  single  muscle  divides  into 
several ;  and  in  this  treatise  all  their  peculiarities  shall 
be  set  forth  each  in  its  place,  and  especially  with  regard 
to  the  spaces  that  come  between  the  joints  of  each  limb. 
Further  you  should  not  fail  to  observe  the  variations 
of  the  aforesaid  muscles  round  the  joints  of  the  limbs 
of  any  animal,  due  to  the  diversity  of  the  movements  of 
each  limb  ;  for  on  any  side  of  these  joints  the  indication 
of  these  muscles  becomes  completely  lost  by  reason 
either  of  the  increase  or  diminution  of  the  flesh  of  which 
these  muscles  are  composed.  (E  19  v.) 

OF  PAINTING 

It  is  a  necessary  thing  for  the  painter  in  order  to  be 
able  to  fashion  the  limbs  correctly  in  the  positions  and 
actions  which  they  can  represent  in  the  nude,  to  know 
the  anatomy  of  the  sinews,  bones,  muscles  and  tendons 
in  order  to  know  in  the  various  different  movements 
and  impulses  which  sinew  or  muscle  is  the  cause  of  each 
movement,  and  to  make  only  these  prominent  and 
thickened,  and  not  the  others  all  over  the  limb,  as  do 
many  who  in  order  to  appear  great  draughtsmen  make 
their  nudes  wooden  and  without  grace,  so  that  it  seems 
rather  as  if  you  were  looking  at  a  sack  of  nuts  than  a 
human  form  or  at  a  bundle  of  radishes  rather  than  the 
muscles  of  nudes*  (L  79  r.) 

HOW  IT   IS   NECESSARY   FOR   THE    PAINTER   TO    KNOW 
THE   INNER    STRUCTURE    OF    MAN 

The  painter  who  has  acquired  a  knowledge  of  the 
nature  of  the  sinews,  muscles,  and  tendons  will  know 


OF  DRAPERIES  185 

exactly  in  the  movement  of  any  limb  how  many,  and 
which  of  the  sinews  are  the  cause  of  it,  and  which  muscle 
by  its  swelling  is  the  cause  of  this  sinew  contracting,  and 
which  sinews  having  been  changed  into  most  delicate 
cartilage  surround  and  contain  the  said  muscle.  So  he 
will  be  able  in  divers  ways  and  universally  to  indicate 
the  various  muscles  by  means  of  the  different  attitudes 
of  his  figures  ;  and  he  will  not  do  like  many  who  in 
different  actions  always  make  the  same  things  appear  in 
the  arm,  the  back,  the  breast,  and  the  legs;  for  such 
things  as  these  ought  not  to  rank  in  the  category  of 
minor  faults.  (MS.  2038,  ^^  r.) 

OF   THE    NATURE    OF   THE    FOLDS   OF    DRAPERIES 

That  part  of  the  fold  which  is  furthest  from  the  ends 
where  it  is  confined  will  return  most  closely  to  its 
original  form.  Everything  naturally  desires  to  remain 
in  its  own  state.  Drapery  being  of  uniform  density 
and  thickness  on  the  reverse  and  on  the  right  side, 
desires  to  lie  flat ;  consequently,  whenever  any  folds  or 
pleats  force  it  to  quit  this  condition  of  flatness,  it  obeys 
the  law  of  this  force  in  that  part  of  itself  where  it  is 
most  constrained,  and  the  part  furthest  away  from  such 
constraint  you  will  find  return  most  nearly  to  its  original 
state,  that  is  to  say,  lying  extended  and  full. 

(MS.  1038,  Sib*  Nat.  4  r.) 

How  one  ought  not  to  give  drapery  a  confusion  of 
many  folds,  but  only  make  them  where  it  is  held  by  the 
hands  or  arms,  and  the  rest  may  be  suffered  to  fall  simply 
where  its  nature  draws  it :  and  do  not  let  the  contour 


t86  OF  DRAPERIES 

of  the  figure  be  broken  by  too  many  lines  or  interrupted 
folds. 

How  draperies  should  be  drawn  from  nature  :  that  is, 
if  you  wish  to  represent  woollen  cloth  draw  the  folds 
from  the  same  material,  and  if  it  is  to  be  silk,  or  fine 
cloth,  or  homespun,  or  of  linen,  or  crape,  show  the 
different  nature  of  the  folds  in  each  ;  and  do  not  make 
a  costume  as  many  make  it  from  models  covered  with 
pieces  of  paper  or  thin  leather,  for  you  will  be  deceiving 
yourself  greatly.  (MS.  2038,  Bib.  Nat.  17  *.) 

OF  THE   FEW    FOLDS    IN    DRAPERIES 

How  figures  when  dressed  in  a  cloak  ought  not  to 
show  the  shape  to  such  an  extent  that  the  cloak  seems 
to  be  next  to  the  flesh  ;  for  surely  you  would  not  wish 
that  the  cloak  should  be  next  the  flesh  since  you  must 
realise  that  between  the  cloak  and  the  flesh  are  other 
garments  which  prevent  the  shape  of  the  limbs  from 
being  visible  and  appearing  through  the  cloak-  And 
those  limbs  which  you  make  visible  make  thick  of  their 
kind  so  that  there  may  seem  to  be  other  garments  there 
under  the  cloak.  And  you  should  only  allow  the  almost 
identical  thickness  of  the  limbs  to  be  visible  in  a  nymph 
or  an  angel,  for  these  are  represented  clad  in  light 
draperies,  which  .by  the  blowing  of  the  wind  are  driven 
and  pressed  against  the  various  limbs  of  the  figures. 

(MS.  2038,  Bib.  Nat.  1 8  r.) 

OF   PAINTING 

In  order  to  produce  the  same  effect  of  action  in  a 
picture  on  the  part  of  an  old  man  and  a  young,  you 


PLATE  S 


STUDY  OF  DRAPERY  OF  KNEELING  FIGURE 


Fact  p.  1 86 


PRECEPTS  OF  PAINTING  187 

must  make  the  action  of  the  young  man  appear  more 
vigorous  in  proportion  as  he  is  more  powerful  than  the 
old  man,  and  you  will  make  the  same  difference  between 
a  young  man  and  an  infant.  (C.  A,  349  r.  b.) 

Let  the  movements  of  men  be  such  as  are  in  keeping 
with  their  dignity  or  meanness.  (C.  A.  345  v.  b.) 

Make  your  work  to  be  in  keeping  with  your  purpose 
and  design ;  that  is,  when  you  make  your  figure  you 
should  consider  carefully  who  it  is  and  what  you  wish  it 
to  be  doing.  (C.  A.  349  r.  b.) 

PRECEPTS    OF    PAINTING 

Let  the  sketches  for  historical  subjects  be  rapid,  and 
the  working  of  the  limbs  not  too  much  finished.  Con- 
tent yourself  with  merely  giving  the  positions  of  these 
limbs  which  you  will  then  be  able  at  your  leisure  to 
finish  as  you  please.  (MS.  2038,  Bib.  Nat.  8  v.) 

The  youth  ought  first  to  learn  perspective,  then  the 
proportions  of  everything,  then  he  should  learn  from  the 
hand  of  a  good  master  in  order  to  accustom  himself  to 
good  limbs ;  then  from  nature  in  order  to  confirm  for 
himself  the  reasons  for  what  he  has  learnt ;  then  for  a 
time  he  should  study  the  work  of  different  masters : 
then  make  it  a  habit  to  practise  and  work  at  his  art. 

How  the  first  picture  was  nothing  but  a  line  which 
surrounded  the  shadow  of  a  man  made  by  the  sun  upon 
a  wall. 

How  historical  pictures  ought  not  to  be  crowded  and 
confused  by  many  figures. 

How  old  men  should  be  shown  with  slow,  listless 


i88  OF  GROUPS  OF  FIGURES 

movements,  with  the  legs  bent  at  the  knees  when  they 
are  standing  up,  with  the  feet  parallel  and  separated  one 
from  another,  the  spine  bent  low,  the  head  leaning 
forward,  and  the  arms  not  too  far  apart. 

How  women  should  be  represented  in  modest  atti- 
tudes, with  legs  close  together,  arms  folded^  and  with 
their  heads  low  and  bending  sideways. 

How  old  women  should  be  represented  as  bold,  with 
swift,  passionate  movements  like  the  infernal  furies,  and 
these  movements  should  seem  quicker  in  the  arms  and 
heads  than  in  the  legs. 

Little  children  should  be  represented  when  sitting  as 
twisting  themselves  about  with  quick  movements,  and  in 
shy,  timid  attitudes  when  standing  up. 

(MS.  2038,  Bib.  Nat.  17  v.) 

OF  THE  METHOD  OF    LEARNING  ARIGHT  HOW  TO  COMPOSE 
GROUPS   OF    FIGURES    IN    HISTORICAL    PICTURES 

When  you  have  thoroughly  learnt  perspective,  and 
have  fixed  in  your  memory  all  the  various  parts  and 
forms  of  things,  you  should  often  amuse  yourself  when 
you  take  a  walk  for  recreation,  in  watching  and  taking 
note  of  the  attitudes  and  actions  of  men  as  they  talk  and 
dispute,  or  laugh  or  come  to  blows  one  with  another, 
both  their  actions  and  those  of  the  bystanders  who  either 
intervene  or  stand  looking  on  at  these  things ;  noting 
these  down  with  rapid  strokes  in  this  way,1  in  a  little 
pocket-book,  which  you  ought  always  to  carry  with  you. 
And  let  this  be  of  tinted  paper,  so  that  it  may  not  be 
rubbed  out ;  but  you  should  change  the  old  for  a  new 

1  Sketch  of  figure  in  text  of  MS. 


OF  MURAL  PAINTINGS  iBg 

one,  for  these  are  not  things  to  be  rubbed  out  but 
preserved  with  the  utmost  diligence ;  for  there  is  such 
an  infinite  number  of  forms  and  actions  of  things  that 
the  memory  is  incapable  of  preserving  them,  and  there- 
fore you  should  keep  those  [sketches]  as  your  patterns 
and  teachers.  (MS.  2038,  Bib.  Nat,  27  v. 

WHY    THE    REPRESENTING    OF   GROUPS    OF    FIGURES   ONE 
ABOVE    ANOTHER    IS   TO    BE   AVOIDED 

This  custom,  which  is  universally  adopted  by  painters 
for  the  walls  of  chapels,  is  by  right  strongly  to  be 
censured,  seeing  that  they  represent  one  composition  at 
one  level  with  its  landscape  and  buildings,  and  then 
mount  to  the  stage  above  it  and  make  another,  and  so 
vary  the  point  of  sight  from  that  of  the  first  painting,  and 
then  make  a  third,  and  a  fourth,  in  such  a  way  that  the 
work  on  the  one  wall  shows  four  points  of  sight,  which 
is  the  height  of  folly  on  the  part  of  such  masters.  Now 
we  know  that  the  point  of  sight  is  opposite  the  eye  of 
the  spectator  of  the  composition,  and  if  you  were  to  ask 
me  how  I  should  represent  the  life  of  a  saint  when  it  is 
divided  up  in  several  compositions  on  the  same  wall,  to 
this  I  reply  that  you  ought  to  set  the  foreground  with 
its  point  of  sight  on  a  level  with  the  eye  of  the  spectators 
of  the  composition,  and  at  this  same  plane  make  the 
chief  episode  on  a  large  scale,  and  then  by  diminishing 
gradually  the  figures  and  buildings  upon  the  various  hills 
and  plains,  you  should  represent  all  the  incidents  of  the 
story-  And  on  the  rest  of  the  wall  up  to  the  top  you 
should  make  trees  large  as  compared  with  the  figures,  or 
angels  if  these  are  appropriate  to  the  story,  or  birds  or 


i9o  OF  PORTRAIT  PAINTING 

clouds  or  similar  things;  but  otherwise  do  not  put 
yourself  to  the  trouble  for  the  whole  of  your  work  will 
be  wrong.  (MS.  2038,  Bib.  Nat.  16  r.) 

OF   THE   CHOICE   OF   THE    LIGHT   WHICH    GIVES 
A    GRACE    TO    FACES 

If  you  have  a  courtyard  which  when  you  so  please  you 
can  cover  over  with  a  linen  awning  the  light  will  then  be 
excellent.  Or  when  you  wish  to  paint  a  portrait  paint 
it  in  bad  weather,  at  the  fall  of  the  evening,  placing  the 
sitter  with  his  back  to  one  of  the  walls  of  the  courtyard. 
Notice  in  the  streets  at  the  fall  of  the  evening  the  faces 
of  tfite  men  and  women  when  it  is  bad  weather,  what 
grace  and  softness  they  display.  Therefore,  O  painter, 
you  should  have  a  courtyard  fitted  up  with  the  walls 
tinted  in  black  and  with  the  roof  projecting  forward - 
a  little  beyond  the  wall ;  and  the  width  of  it  should  be 
ten  braccia,  and  the  length  twenty  braccia,  and  the 
height  ten  braccia ;  and  you  should  cover  it  over  with 
the  awning  when  the  sun  is  on  it,  or  else  you  should 
make  your  portrait  at  the  hour  of  the  fall  of  the  evening 
when  it  is  cloudy  or  misty,  for  the  light  then  is  perfect. 

(MS.  2038,  Bib.  Nat.  20  v.) 

OF   THE   CHOICE    OF    BEAUTIFUL    FACES 

Methinks  it  is  no  small  grace  in  a  painter  to  be  able 
to  give  a  pleasing  air  to  his  figures,  and  whoever  is  not 
naturally  possessed  of  this  grace  may  acquire  it  by  study, 
as  opportunity  offers,  in  the  following  manner.  Be  on 
the  watch  to  take  the  best  parts  of  many  beautiful  faces 


OF  LIMBS  191 

of  which  the  beauty  is  established  rather  by  general 
repute  than  by  your  own  judgment,  for  you  may  readily 
deceive  yourself  by  selecting  such  faces  as  bear- a  re- 
semblance to  your  own,  for  it  would  often  seem  that 
such  similarities  please  us ;  and  if  you  were  ugly  you 
would  not  select  beautiful  faces,  and  so  you  would  be 
creating  ugly  faces  like  many  painters  whose  types  often 
resemble  their  master ;  so  therefore  choose  the  beautiful 
ones  as  I  have  said,  and  fix  them  in  your  mind. 

(MS.  2038,  Bit.  Nat.  27  n) 


OF   THE    ERROR    WHICH    IS   COMMITTED   IN   JUDGING 
AS   TO   THE    LIMBS 

The  painter  who  has  clumsy  hands  will  reproduce  the 
same  in  his  works,  and  the  same  thing  will  happen  with 
every  limb  unless  long  study  prevents  it.  Do  you  then, 
O  painter,  take  careful  note  of  that  part  in  yourself  which 
is  most  mis-shapen,  and  apply  yourself  by  study  to 
remedy  this  entirely.  For  if  you  are  brutal,  your  figures 
will  be  the  same  and  devoid  of  grace,  and  in  like  manner 
every  quality  that  there  is  within  you  of  good  or  of  evil 
will  be  in  part  revealed  in  your  figures.  (A  23  r.) 

A  picture  or  any  representation  of  figures  ought  to 
be  done  in  such  a  way  that  those  who  see  them  may 
be  able  with  ease  to  recognise  from  their  attitudes  what 
is  passing  through  their  minds.  So  if  you  have  to 
represent  a  man  of  good  repute  in  the  act  of  speaking, 
make  his  gestures  accord  with  the  probity  of  his  speech ; 
and  similarly  if  you  have  to  represent  a  brutal  man, 
make  him  with  fierce  movements  flinging  out  his  arms 


i92  OF  GESTURE 

towards  his  hearer,  and  the  head  and  chest  protruding 
forward  beyond  the  feet  should  seem  to  accompany  the 
hands  of  the  speaker. 

Just  so  a  deaf  mute  who  sees  two  people  talking, 
although  being  himself  deprived  of  the  power  of  hearing, 
is  none  the  less  able  to  divine  from  the  movements  and 
gestures  of  the  speakers  the  subject  of  their  discussion. 

I  once  saw  in  Florence  a  man  who  had  become  deaf, 
who  could  not  understand  you  if  you  spoke  to  him 
loudly,  while  if  you  spoke  softly  without  letting  the 
voice  utter  any  sound,  he  understood  you  merely  from 
the  movement  of  the  lips.  Perhaps,  however,  you  will 
say  to  me  :  *  But  does  not  a  man  who  speaks  loudly  move 
his  lips  like  one  who  speaks  softly  ?  And  since  the  one 
moves  his  lips  like  the  other,  will  not  the  one  be  under- 
stood like  the  other  ?  *  As  to  this  I  leave  the  decision 
to  the  test  of  experience.  Set  some  one  to  speak  softly 

and  then  [loudly],  and  watch  the  lips ! 

(C.  A.  139  *'.) 


HOW  A  FIGURE  IS  NOT  WORTHY  OF  PRAISE  UNLESS  SUCH 
ACTION  APPEARS  IN  IT  AS  SERVES  TO  EXPRESS  THE 
PASSION  OF  THE  SOUL 

That  figure  is  most  worthy  of  praise  which  by  its 
action  best  expresses  the  passion  which  animates  it. 

HOW   ONE   OUGHT   TO    REPRESENT   AN  ANGRY    FIGURE 

An  angry  figure  should  be  represented  seizing  some 
one  by  the  hair  and  twisting  his  head  down  to  the 
ground,  with  one  knee  on  his  ribs,  and  with  the  right 


OF  A  NIGHT  SCENE  193 

arm  and  fist  raised  high  up;  let  him  have  his  hair 
dishevelled,  his  eyebrows  low  and  knit  together,  his 
teeth  clenched,  the  two  corners  of  his  mouth  arched, 
and  the  neck,  which  is  all  swollen  and  extended  as  he 
bends  over  the  foe,  should  be  full  of  furrows. 

HOW   TO    REPRESENT   A    MAN    IN    DESPAIR 

A  man  who  is  in  despair  you  should  make  turning 
his  knife  against  himself,  and  rending  his  garments  with 
his  hands,  and  one  of  his  hands  should  be  in  the  act 
of  tearing  open  his  wound.  Make  him  with  his  feet 
apart,  his  legs  somewhat  bent,  and  the  whole  body  like- 
wise bending  to  the  ground,  and  with  his  hair  torn  and 
streaming.  (MS.  2038,  Bib.  Nat.  29  v.) 

OF   THE   WAY    TO    REPRESENT  A    NIGHT   SCENE 

Whatever  is  entirely  deprived  of  light  is  all  darkness. 
When  such  is  the  condition  of  night,  if  you  wish  to  re- 
present a  scene  therein,  you  must  arrange  to  introduce  a 
great  fire  there,  and  then  the  things  which  are  nearest  to 
the  fire  will  be  more  deeply  tinged  with  its  colour,  for 
whatever  is  nearest  to  the  object  partakes  most  fully 
of  its  nature ;  and  making  the  fire  of  a  reddish  colour 
you  should  represent  all  the  things  illuminated  by  it  as 
being  also  of  a  ruddy  hue,  while  those  which  are  farther 
away  from  the  fire  should  be  dyed  more  deeply  with 
the  black  colour  of  the  night.  The  figures  which  are 
between  you  and  the  fire  will  appear  dark  against  the 
brightness  of  the  flame,  for  that  part  of  the  object  which 
you  perceive  is  coloured  by  the  darkness  of  the  night, 

N 


I94  OF  AN  ORATOR 

and  not  by  the  brightness  of  the  fire ;  those  which  are 
at  the  sides  should  be  half  in  shadow  and  half  in  ruddy 
light ;  and  those  visible  beyond  the  edge  of  the  flames 
will  all  be  lit  up  with  ruddy  light  against  a  dark  back- 
ground. As  for  their  actions,  show  those  who  are  near 
it,  making  a  screen  with  hands  and  cloaks  as  a  protection 
against  the  unbearable  heat,  with  faces  turned  away  as 
though  on  the  point  of  flight;  while  of  those  further 
away  you  should  show  a  great  number  pressing  their 
hands  upon  their  eyes,  hurt  by  the  intolerable  glare. 

(MS.  2038,  m.  Nat.  1 8  v.) 

OF   HOW   TO    REPRESENT   SOME    ONE   WHO    IS    SPEAKING 
AMONG   A    GROUP   OF   PERSONS 

When  you  desire  to  represent  any  one  speaking  among 
a  group  of  persons  you  ought  to  consider  first  the 
subject  of  which  he  has  to  treat,  and  how  so  to  order 
his  actions  that  they  may  be  in  keeping  with  this  sub- 
ject. That  is,  if  the  subject  be  persuasive  the  actions 
should  serve  this  intention ;  if  it  be  one  that  needs  to  be 
expounded  under  various  heads,  the  speaker  should  take 
a  finger  of  his  left  hand  between  two  fingers  of  his  right, 
keeping  the  two  smaller  ones  closed,1  and  let  his  face 
be  animated  and  turned  towards  the  people,  with  mouth 
slightly  opened,  so  as  to  give  the  effect  of  speaking. 
And  if  he  is  seated  let  him  seem  to  be  in  the  act  of 
raising  himself  more  upright,  with  his  head  forward ; 
and  if  you  represent  him  standing,  make  him  leaning 
forward  3.  little  with  head  and  shoulders  towards  the 

*  MS.  has  'serate.'  M.  Ravaisson-Mollien  gives  « searate/  and  translate* 
as  though  it  were  '  separate/ 


NOTES  FOR  'THE  LAST  SUPPER'  195 

populace,  whom  you  should  show  silent  and  attentive, 
and  all  watching  the  face  of  the  orator  with  gestures 
of  admiration.  Show  the  mouths  of  some  of  the  old 
men  with  the  corners  pulled  down  in  astonishment  at 
what  they  hear,  drawing  back  the  cheeks  in  many 
furrows,  with  their  eyebrows  raised  where  they  meet, 
making  many  wrinkles  on  their  foreheads;  and  show 
some  sitting  with  the  fingers  of  their  hands  locked 
together  and  clasping  their  weary  knees,  and  others — 
decrepit  old  men — with  one  knee  crossed  over  the  other, 
and  one  hand  resting  upon  it  which  serves  as  a  cup 
for  the  other  elbow,  while  the  other  hand  supports  the 
bearded  chin.  (MS.  2038,  Bib.  Nat.  21  r.) 

[NOTES  FOR  *  THE  LAST  SUPPER  ] 
One  who  was  drinking  has  left  the  glass  where  it  was 
and  turned  his  head  towards  the  speaker.  Another 
twists  the-  fingers  of  his  hands  together  and  turns  with 
set  brows  to  his  companion.  Another  with  his  hands 
spread  open  displays  their  palms  and  shrugs  his  shoulders 
up  towards  his  ears  and  gapes  in  astonishment.  Another 
is  speaking  in  his  neighbour's  ear,  and  he  who  listens 
turns  towards  him  and  gives  him  hearing,  holding  in 
one  hand  a  knife,  and  in  the  other  the  bread  half  cut 
through  by  the  knife.  Another,  as  he  turns  round 
holding  a  knife  in  his  hand,  has  upset  with  his  hand  a 
glass  which  is  upon  the  table. 

Another  rests  his  hands  upon  the  table  and  watches. 
Another  blows  out  his  mouth.  Another  bends  forward 
to  see  the  speaker  and  makes  a  shade  for  his  eyes  with 
-his  hand.  Another  leans  back  behind  the  one  who  is 


196  OF  A  TEMPEST 

bending  forward,  and  sees  the  speaker  between  the  wall 

and  him  who  bends  forward. 

(S.  K.  Af.  «.,  62  v.  and  63  r.) 

HOW   TO    REPRESENT   A   TEMPEST 

If  you  wish  to  represent  a  tempest  properly,  consider 
and  set  down  exactly  what  are  the  results  when  the  wind 
blowing  over  the  face  of  the  sea  and  of  the  land  lifts  and 
carries  with  it  everything  that  is  not  immovable  in  the 
general  mass.    And  in  order  properly  to  represent  this 
tempest,  you  must  first  of  all  show  the  clouds,  riven  and 
torn,  swept  along  in  the  path  of  the  wind,  together  with 
storms  of  sand  blown  up  from  the  sea  shores,  and 
branches  and  leaves  caught  up  by  the  irresistible  fury 
of  the  gale  and  scattered  through  the  air,  and  with  them 
many  other  things  of  light  weight.     The  trees  and  shrubs 
should  be  bent  to  the  ground,  as  though  showing  their 
desire  to  follow  the  direction  of  the  wind,  with  their 
branches  twisted  out  of  their  natural  growth  and  their 
leaves  tossed  and  inverted.     Of  the  men  who  are  there, 
some  should  have  fallen  and  be  lying  wrapped  round  by 
their  garments  and  almost  indistinguishable  on  account  of 
the  dust,  and  those  who  are  left  standing  should  be  behind 
some  tree  with  their  arms  thrown  round  it  to  prevent 
the  wind  from  dragging  them  away ;  others  should  be 
shown  crouching  on  the  ground,  their  hands  over  their 
eyes  because  of  the  dust,  their  garments  and  hair  stream- 
ing in  the  wind*   Let  the  sea  be  wild  and  tempestuous,  and 
between  the  crests  of  its  waves  it  should  be  covered  with 
eddying  foam,  and  the  wind  should  carry  the  finer  spray 
through  the  stormy  air  after  the  manner  of  a  thick  and 


OF  A  BATTLE  197 

all-enveloping  mist.  Of  the  ships  that  are  there,  some 
you  should  show  with  sail  rent  and  the  shreds  of  it 
flapping  in  the  air  in  company  with  the  broken  halyards, 
and  some  of  the  masts  broken  and  gone  by  the  board, 
and  the  vessel  itself  lying  disabled  and  broken  by  the 
fury  of  the  waves,  with  some  of  the  crew  shrieking  and 
clinging  to  the  fragments  of  the  wreck.  You  should 
show  the  clouds,  driven  by  the  impetuous  winds,  hurled 
against  the  high  mountain  tops,  and  there  wreathing 
and  eddying  like  waves  that  beat  upon  the  rocks  ;  the 
very  air  should  strike  terror  through  the  murky  darkness 
occasioned  therein  by  the  dust  and  mist  and  thick  clouds. 

(MS.  2038,  Bib*  Nat.  21  r.) 

THE   WAY   TO   REPRESENT   A    BATTLE 

Show  first  the  smoke  of  the  artillery  mingled  in  the 
air  with  the  dust  stirred  up  by  the  movement  of  the 
horses  and  of  the  combatants.  This  process  you  should 
express  as  follows  :  the  dust,  since  it  is  made  up  of  earth 
and  has  weight,  although  by  reason  of  its  fineness  it  may 
easily  rise  and  mingle  with  the  air,  will  nevertheless 
readily  fall  down  again,  and  the  greatest  height  will  be 
attained  by  such  part  of  it  as  is  the  finest,  and  this  will 
in  consequence  be  the  least  visible  and  will  seem  almost 
the  colour  of  the  air  itself. 

The  smoke  which  is  mingled  with  the  dust-laden  air 
will  as  it  rises  to  a  certain  height  have  more  and  more 
the  appearance  of  a  dark  cloud,  at  the  summit  of  which 
the  smoke  will  be  more  distinctly  visible  than  the  dust. 
The  smoke  will  assume  a  bluish  tinge,  and  the  dust  will 


198  OF  A  BATTLE 

keep  its  natural  colour.  From  the  side  whence  the 
light  comes  this  mixture  of  air  and  smoke  and  dust  will 
seem  far  brighter  than  on  the  opposite  side. 

As  for  the  combatants,  the  more  they  are  in  the  midst 
of  this  turmoil  the  less  they  will  be  visible,  and  the  less 
will  be  the  contrast  between  their  lights  and  shadows. 

You  should  give  a  ruddy  glow  to  the  faces  and  the  figures 
and  the  air  around  them,  and  to  the  gunners  and  those  near 
to  them,  and  this  glow  should  grow  fainter  as  it  is  further 
away  from  its  cause-  The  figures  which  are  between 
you  and  the  light,  if  far  away,  will  appear  dark  against 
a  light  background,  and  the  nearer  their  limbs  are  to  the 
ground  the  less  will  they  be  visible,  for  there  the  dust  is 
greater  and  thicker.  And  if  you  make  horses  galloping 
away  from  tjie  throng  make  little  clouds  of  dust  as  far 
distant  one  from  another  as  is  the  space  between  the 
strides  made  by  the  horse,  and  that  cloud  which  is  further 
away  from  the  horse  should  be  the  least  visible,  for  it 
should  be  high  and  spread  out  and  thin,  while  that  which 
'is  nearer  should  be  more  conspicuous  and  smaller  and 
more  compact. 

Let  the  air  be  full  of  arrows  going  in  various  direc- 
tions, some  mounting  upwards,  others  falling,  others 
flying  horizontally,  and  let  the  balls  shot  from  the  guns 
have  a  train  of  smoke  following  their  course.  Show  the 
figures  in  the  foreground  covered  with  dust  on  their 
hair  and  eyebrows  and  such  other  level  parts  as  afford 
the  dust  a  space  to  lodge. 

Make  the  conquerors  running,  with  their  hair  and 
Other  light  things  streaming  in  the  wind,  and  with  brows 
bent  down ;  and  they  should  be  thrusting  forward 


OF  A  BATTLE  199 

opposite  limbs,  that  is,  if  a  man  advances  the  right  foot 
the  left  arm  should  also  come  forward.  If  you  represent 
any  one  fallen  you  should  show  the  mark  where  he  has 
been  dragged  through  the  dust,  which  has  become 
changed  to  blood-stained  mire,  and  round  about  in  the 
half-liquid  earth  you  should  show  the  marks  of  the 
tramping  of  men  and  horses  who  have  passed  over  it. 
Make  a  horse  dragging  the  dead  body  of  his  master,  and 
leaving  behind  him  in  the  dust  and  mud  the  track  of 
where  the  body  was  dragged  along. 

Make  the  beaten  and  conquered  pallid,  with  brows 
raised  and  knit  together,  and  let  the  skin  above  the 
brows  be  all  full  of  lines  of  pain  ;  at  the  sides  of  the 
nose  show  the  furrows  going  in  an  arch  from  the  nostrils 
and  ending  where  the  eye  begins,  and  show  the  dilation 
of  the  nostrils  which  is  the  cause  of  these  lines  ;  and  let 
the  lips  be  arched  displaying  the  upper  row  of  teeth, 
and  let  the  teeth  be  parted  after  the  manner  of  such  as 
cry  in  lamentation.  Show  some  one  using  his  hand  as 
a  shield  for  his  terrified  eyes,  turning  the  palm  of  it 
towards  the  enemy,  and  having  the  other  resting  on  the 
ground  to  support  the  weight  of  his  body  ;  let  others  be 
crying  out  with  their  mouths  wide  open,  and  fleeing 
away.  Put  all  sorts  of  arms  lying  between  the  feet  of 
the  combatants,  such  as  broken  shields,  lances,  broken 
swords,  and  other  things  like  these*  Make  the  dead, 
some  half  buried  in  dust,  others  with  the  dust  all  mingled 
with  the  oozing  blood  and  changing  into  crimson  mud ; 
and  let  the  line  of  the  blood  be  discerned  by  its  colour, 
flowing  in  a  sinuous  stream  from  the  corpse  to  the  dust. 
Show  others  in  the  death  agony  grinding  their  teeth  and 


200  OF  A  BATTLE 

rolling  their  eyes,  with  clenched  fists  grinding  against 
their  bodies,  and  with  legs  distorted.     Then  you  might 
show  one,  disarmed  and  struck  down  by  the  enemy, 
turning  on  him  with  teeth  and  nails  to  take  fierce  and 
inhuman  vengeance ;   and  let  a  riderless  horse  be  seen 
galloping  with  mane  streaming  in  the  wind,  charging 
among  the  enemy  and  doing  them  great  mischief  with 
his  heels.     You  may  see  there  one  of  the  combatants 
maimed  and  fallen  on  the  ground  protecting  himself  with 
his  shield,  and  the  enemy  bending  down  over  him  and 
striving  to  give  him  the  fatal  stroke ;  there  might  also 
be  seen  many  men  fallen  in  a  heap  on  top  of  a  dead 
horse  ;  and  you  should  show  some  of  the  victors  leaving 
the  combat  and  retiring  apart  from  the  crowd,  and  with 
both  hands  wiping  away  from  eyes  and  cheeks  the  thick 
layer  of  mud  caused  by  the  smarting  of  their  eyes  from 
the  dust.1     And  the  squadrons  of  the  reserves  should  be 
seen  standing  full  of  hope  but  cautious,  with  eyebrows 
raised,  and  shading  their  eyes  with  their  hands,  peering 
into  the  thick,  heavy  mist  in  readiness  for  the  commands 
of  their  captain ;  and  so  too  the  captain  with  his  staff 
raised,  hurrying  to  the  reserves  and  pointing  out  to  them 
the  quarter  of  the  field  where  they  are  needed ;  and  you 
should  show  a  river,  within  which  horses  are  galloping, 
stirring  the  water  all  around  with  a  heaving  mass  of 
waves  and  foam  and  broken  water,  leaping  high  into  the 
air  and  over  the  legs  and  bodies  of  the  horses  ;  but  see 
that  you  make  no  level  spot  of  ground  that  is  not 
trampled  over  with  blood. 

(MS.  2038,  JBib.  Nat.  31  r.  and  30  v.) 
1  MS.  has  'per  lamor  della  polvere.* 


OF  A  DELUGE  201 

REPRESENTATION   OF    A    DELUGE 

The  air  was  dark  from  the  heavy  rain  which  was 
falling  slantwise  bent  by  the  cross  current  of  the  winds 
and  formed  itself  in  waves  in  the  air,  like  those  one  sees 
formed  by  the  dust,  the  only  difference  being  that  these 
drifts  were  furrowed  by  the  lines  made  by  the  drops  of 
the  falling  water.  It  was  tinged  by  the  colour  of 
the  fire  produced  by  the  thunderbolts  wherewith  the 
clouds  were  rent  and  torn  asunder,  the  flashes  from 
which  smote  and  tore  open  the  vast  waters  of  the  flooded 
valleys,  and  as  these  lay  open  there  were  revealed  in  their 
depths *  the  bowed  summits  of  the  trees. 

Neptune  might  be  seen  with  his  trident  in  the  midst 
of  the  waters,  and  Eolus  with  his  winds  should  be  shown 
entangling  the  floating  trees  which  had  been  uprooted 
and  were  mingled  with  the  mighty  waves. 

The  horizon  and  the  whole  firmament  was  overcast  and 
lurid  with  the  flashings  of  the  incessant  lightning.  Men 
and  birds  might  be  seen  crowded  together  upon  the  tall 
trees  which  over-topped  the  swollen  waters  forming  hills 
which  surround  the  great  abysses.  (G  6  v.) 

OF    A    DELUGE   AND    THE   REPRESENTATION    OF    IT 
IN    PAINTING 

Let  the  dark,  gloomy  air  be  seen  beaten  by  the  rush 
of  opposing  winds  wreathed  in  perpetual  rain  mingled 
with  hail,2  and  bearing  hither  and  thither  a  vast  network 

1  Dr.  Richter  reads  *vertici/    I  have  followed  M.  Ravaisson-Mollicn  in 
reading  *  ventri, '    The  MS.  has « vertri. ' 
*  MS.  *  gravza/    I  have  followed  Dr.  Richter's  wggestion  'gragnuola/ 


201  OF  A  DELUGE 

of  the  torn  branches  of  trees  mixed  together  with  an 
infinite  number  of  leaves.  All  around  let  there  be  seen 
ancient  trees  uprooted  and  torn  in  pieces  by  the  fury 
of  the  winds.  You  should  show  how  fragments  of 
mountains  which  have  been  already  stripped  bare  by  the 
rushing  torrents  fall  headlong  into  these  very  torrents 
and  choke  up  the  valleys,  until  the  pent-up  rivers  rise  in 
flood  and  cover  the  wide  plains  and  their  inhabitants. 
Again  there  might  be  seen  huddled  together  on  the  tops 
of  many  of  the  mountains  many  different  sorts  of  animals, 
terrified  and  subdued  at  last  to  a  state  of  tameness,  in 
company  with  men  and  women  who  had  fled  there  with 
their  children.  And  the  fields  which  were  covered  with 
water  had  their  waves  covered  over  in  great  part  with 
tables,  bedsteads,  boats  and  various  other  kinds  of  rafts 
improvised  through  necessity  and  fear  of  death,  upon 
which  were  men  and  women  with  their  children,  massed 
together  and  uttering  various  cries  and  lamentations, 
dismayed  by  the  fury  of  the  winds  which  were  causing 
the  waters  to  roll  over  and  over  in  mighty  hurricane, 
bearing  with  them  the  bodies  of  the  drowned  ;  and  there 
was  no  object  that  floated  on  the  water  but  was  covered 
with  various  different  animals  who  had  made  truce  and 
stood  huddled  together  in  terror,  among  them  being 
wolves,  foxes,  snakes,  and  creatures  of  every  kind, 
fugitives  from  death.  And  all  the  waves  that  beat 
against  their  sides  were  striking  them  with  repeated 
blows  from  the  various  bodies  of  the  drowned,  and  the 
blows  were  killing  those  in  whom  life  remained. 

Some  groups  of  men  you  might  have  seen  with  arms  in 
their  hands  defending  the  tiny  footholds  that  remained  to 


OF  A  DELUGE  303 

them  from  the  lions  and  wolves  and  beasts  of  prey 
which  sought  safety  there.  Ah,  what  dreadful  tumults 
one  heard  resounding  through  the  gloomy  air,  smitten  by 
the  fury  of  the  thunder  and  the  lightning  it  flashed  forth, 
which  sped  through  it,  bearing  ruin,  striking  down 
whatever  withstood  its  course  !  Ah,  how  many  might 
you  have  seen  stopping  their  ears  with  their  hands  in 
order  to  shut  out  the  loud  uproar  caused  through  the 
darkened  air  by  the  fury  of  the  winds  mingled  together 
with  the  rain,  the  thunder  of  the  heavens  and  the  raging 
of  the  thunderbolts  !  Others  were  not  content  to  shut 
their  eyes,  but  placing  their  hands  over  them,  one  above 
the  other,  would  cover  them  more  tightly  in  order  not 
to  see  the  pitiless  slaughter  made  of  the  human  race  by 
the  wrath  of  God. 

Ah  me,  how  many  lamentations  !  How  many  in  their 
terror  flung  themselves  down  from  the  rocks  1  You 
might  have  seen  huge  branches  of  the  giant  oaks  laden 
with  men  borne  along  through  the  air  by  the  fury  of  the 
impetuous  winds.  How  many  boats  were  capsized  and 
lying,  some  whole,  others  broken  in  pieces,  on  the  top 
of  men  struggling  to  escape  with  acts  and  gestures  of 
despair  which  foretold  an  awful  death*  Others  with 
frenzied  acts  were  taking  their  own  lives,  in  despair  of  ever 
being  able  to  endure  such  anguish  ;  some  of  these  were 
flinging  themselves  down  from  the  lofty  rocks,  others 
strangled  themselves  with  their  own  hands ;  some  seized 
hold  of  their  own  children,  and  with  mighty  violence1 
slew  them  at  one  blow  ;  some  turned  their  arms  against 

1  MS.  Vnpeto  *— « impeto.'  Richter  reads  MS.  as « rapito,'  and  gives  in  text 
'rapidita/ 


204  OF  A  DELUGE 

themselves  to  wound  and  slay  ;  others  falling  upon  their 
knees  were  commending  themselves  to  God. 

Alas,  how  many  mothers  were  bewailing  their  drowned 
sons,  holding  them  upon  their  knees,  lifting  up  open 
arms  to  heaven,  and  with  divers  cries  and  shrieks 
declaiming  against  the  anger  of  the  gods  !  Others  with 
hands  denched  and  fingers  locked  together  gnawed  and 
devoured  them  with  bites  that  ran  blood,  crouching  down 
so  that  their  breasts  touched  their  knees  in  their  intense 
and  intolerable  agony. 

Herds  of  animals,  such  as  horses,  oxen,  goats,  sheep, 
were  to  be  seen  already  hemmed  in  by  the  waters  and  left 
isolated  upon  the  high  peaks  of  the  mountains,  all  huddling 
together,  and  those  in  the  middle  climbing  to  the  top  and 
treading  on  the  others,  and  waging  fierce  battles  with 
each  other,  and  many  of  them  dying  from  want  of  food. 

And  the  birds  had  already  begun  to  settle  upon  men 
and  other  animals,  no  longer  finding  any  land  left 
unsubmerged  which  was  not  covered  with  living  creatures. 
Already  had  hunger  the  minister  of  death  taken  away 
their  life  from  the  greater  number  of  the  animals,  when 
the  dead  bodies  already  becoming  lighter  began  to  rise 
from  out  the  bottom  of  the  deep  waters  and  emerged  to 
the  surface  among  the  contending  waves  ;  and  there  lay 
beating  one  against  another,  and  as  balls  puffed  up  with 
wind  rebound  back  from  the  spot  where  they  strike,  these 
fell  back  and  lay  upon  the  other  dead  bodies.  And 
above  these  horrors  the  atmosphere  was  seen  covered 
with  murky  clouds  that  were  rent  by  the  jagged  course 
of  the  raging  thunderbolts  of  heaven  which  flashed  light 
hither  and  thither  amid  the  obscurity  of  the  darkness. 


OF  A  DELUGE  205 

The  velocity  of  the  air  is  seen  by  the  movement  of 
the  dust  stirred  by  the  running  of  a  horse  ;  and  it  moves 
as  swiftly  to  fill  up  the  void  left  in  the  air  which  had 
enclosed  the  horse  as  is  the  speed  of  the  horse  in  passing 
away  from  the  aforesaid  space  of  air. 

But  it  will  perhaps  seem  to  you  that  you  have  cause 
to  censure  me  for  having  represented  the  different 
courses  taken  in  the  air  by  the  movement  of  the  wind, 
whereas  the  wind  is  not  of  itself  visible  in  the  air  ;  to  this 
I  reply  that  it  is  not  the  movement  of  the  wind  itself 
but  the  movement  of  the  things  carried  by  it  which 
alone  is  visible  in  the  air. 

THE   DIVISIONS 

Darkness,  wind,  tempest  at  sea;  deluge  of  water, 
woods  on  fire,  rain,  thunderbolts  from  the  sky,  earth- 
quakes and  destruction  of  mountains,  levelling  of 
cities. 

Whirlwinds  which  carry  water  and  branches  of  trees 
and  men  through  the  air. 

Branches  torn  away  by  the  winds  crashing  together 
at  the  meeting  of  the  winds,  with  people  on  the  top  of 
them. 

Trees  broken  off  laden  with  people. 

Ships  broken  in  pieces  dashed  upon  the  rocks. 

Hail,  thunderbolts,  whirlwinds* 

Herds  of  cattle* 

People  on  trees  which  cannot  bear  them:  trees  and 
rocks,*  towers,  hills  crowded  with  people,  boats,  tables, 


206  OF  A  DELUGE 

troughs    and    other    contrivances    for   floating, — hills 
covered  with  men  and  women  and  animals,  with  light- 
nings from  the  clouds  which  illumine  the  whole  scene. 
(Windsor  MSS.  ttudts  et  dessins  sur  ? atmosphere  [Rouveyrc]  17  *.) 

DESCRIPTION    OF   THE    DELUGE 

First  of  all  let  there  be  represented  the  summit  of  a 
rugged  mountain  with  certain  of  the  valleys  that  sur- 
round its  base,  and  on  its  sides  let  the  surface  of  the 
soil  be  seen  slipping  down  together  with  the  tiny  roots 
of  the  small  shrubs,  and  leaving  bare  a  great  part  of  the 
surrounding  rocks.  Sweeping  down  in  devastation  from 
these  precipices,  let  it  pursue  its  headlong  course,  striking 
and  laying  bare  the  twisted  and  gnarled  roots  of  the 
great  trees  and  overturning  them  in  ruin.  And  the 
mountains  becoming  bare  should  reveal  the  deep  fissures 
made  in  them  by  the  ancient  earthquakes ;  and  let  the 
bases  of  the  mountains  be  in  great  part  covered  over 
and  clad  with  the  debris  of  the  shrubs  which  have  fallen 
headlong  from  the  sides  of  the  lofty  peaks  of  the  said 
mountains,  and  let  these  be  mingled  together  with  mud, 
roots,  branches  of  trees,  with  various  kinds  of  leaves 
thrust  in  among  the  mud  and  earth  and  stones.  And 
let  the  fragments  of  some  of  the  mountains  have  fallen 
down  into  the  depth  of  one.  of  the  valleys,  and  there  form 
a  barrier  to  the  swollen  waters  of  its  river,  which  having 
already  burst  the  barrier  rushes  on  with  immense  waves, 
the  greatest  of  which  are  striking  and  laying  in  ruin  the 
walls  of  the  cities  and  farms  of  the  valley.  And  from 
the  ruins  of  the  lofty  buildings  of  the  aforesaid  cities  let 
there  rise  a  great  quantity  of  d'ust  mounting  up  in  the 


OF  A  DELUGE  207 

air  with  the  appearance  of  smoke  or  of  wreathed  clouds 
that  battle  against  the  descending  rain. 

But  the  swollen  waters  should  be  coursing  round  the 
pool  which  confines  them,  and  striking  against  various 
obstacles  with  whirling  eddies,  leaping  up  into  the  air 
in  turbid  foam,  and  then  falling  back  and  causing  the 
water  where  they  strike  to  be  dashed  up  into  the  air ; 
and  the  circling  waves  which  recede  from  the  point  of 
contact  are  impelled  by  their  impetus  right  across  the 
course  of  the  other  circling  waves  which  move  in  an 
opposite  direction  to  them,  and  after  striking  against 
these  they  leap  up  into  the  air  without  becoming  de- 
tached from  their  base.  And  where  the  water  issues 
forth  from  the  said  pool,  the  spent  waves  are  seen 
spreading  out  towards  the  outlet ;  after  which,  falling  or 
descending  through  the  air,  this  water  acquires  weight 
and  impetus ;  and  then  piercing  the  water  where  it  strikes, 
it  tears  it  apart  and  dives  down  in  fury  to  reach  its 
depth,  and  then  recoiling  it  springs  back  again  towards 
the  surface  of  the  lake  accompanied  by  the  air  which  has 
been  submerged  with  it,  and  this  remains  in  the  slimy 
foam1  mingled  with  the  driftwood  and  other  things 
lighter  than  the  water,  and  around  these  again  are  formed 
the  beginnings  of  the  waves,  which  increase  the  more  in 
circumference  as  they  acquire  more  movement ;  and  this 
movement  makes  them  lower  in  proportion  as  they 
acquire  a  wider  base,  and  therefore  they  become  almost 
imperceptible  as  they  die  away.  But  if  the  waves  re- 
bound against  various  obstacles  then  they  leap  back  and 

1  Richter's  transcript  (§  609)  is*vissci  cholla"*  and  he  reads  *nella  usdta 
colla  sciuma.*  The  MS.  has  I  think  'visscichosa,*  which  I  have  taken  as  a 
variant  of  *  vischiosa.* 


208  OF  A  DELUGE 

oppose  the  approach  of  the  other  waves,  following  the 
same  law  of  development  in  their  curve  as  they  have 
already  shown  in  their  original  movement.  The  rain  as 
it  falls  from  the  clouds  is  of  the  same  colour  as  these 
clouds,  that  is  on  its  shaded  side,  unless,  however,  the 
rays  of  the  sun  should  penetrate  there,  for  if  this  were 
so  the  rain  would  appear  less  dark  than  the  cloud.  And 
if  the  great  masses  of  the  debris  of  huge  mountains  or 
of  large  buildings  strike  in  their  fall  the  mighty  lakes  of 
the  waters,  then  a  vast  quantity  of  water  will  rebound 
in  the  air,  and  its  course  will  be  in  an  opposite  direction 
to  that  of  the  substance  which  struck  the  water,  that  is  to 
say  the  angle  of  reflection  will  be  equal  to  the  angle  of 
incidence. 

Of  the  objects  borne  along  by  the  current  of  the 
waters  that  will  be  at  a  greater  distance  from  the  two 
opposite  banks  which  is  heavier  or  of  larger  bulk.  The 
eddies  of  the  waters  revolve  most  swiftly  in  those  parts 
which  are  nearest  to  their  centre.  The  crests  of  the 
waves  of  the  sea  fall  forward  to  their  base,  beating  and 
rubbing  themselves  against  the  smooth  particles  which 
form  their  face  ;  and  by  this  friction  the  water  as  it  falls 
is  ground  up  in  tiny  particles,1  and  becomes  changed  to 
thick  mist  and  is  mingled  in  the  currents  of  the  winds 
in  the  manner  of  wreathing  smoke  or  winding  clouds, 
and  at  last  rises  up  in  the  air  and  becomes  changed  into 
clouds.  But  the  rain  which  falls  through  the  air  being 
beaten  upon  and  driven  by  the  current  of  the  winds 
becomes  rare  or  dense  according  to  the  rarity  or  density 
of  these  winds,  and  by  this  means  there  is  produced 

1  MS. '  e  ttal  confrcghatione  trita  in  minute  partichule  la  dissciente  acqua.' 


OF  A  DELUGE  209 

throughout  the  air  a  flood  of  transparent  clouds  which 
Is  formed  by  the  aforesaid  rain  and  becomes  visible  in  it 
by  means  of  the  lines  made  by  the  fail  of  the  rain  which 
io  near  to  the  eye  of  the  spectator.1  The  waves  of  the 
sea  that  beats  against  the  shelving  base  of  the  mountains 
which  confine  it,  rush 2  foaming  in  speed  up  to  the  ridge 
of  these  same  hills,  and  in  turning  back  meet  the  onset 
of  the  succeeding  wave,  and  after  loud  roaring  return  in 
a  mighty  flood  to  the  sea  from  whence  they  came.  A 
great  number  of  the  inhabitants,  men  and  different 
animals,  may  be  seen  driven  by  the  rising  of  the  deluge 
up  towards  the  summits  of  the  hills  which  border  on 
the  said  waters. 

Waves  of  the  sea  at  Piombino  all  of  foaming  water. 

Of  the  water  that  leaps  up — (of  the  place  where  the 
great  masses  fall  and  strike  the  waters)  3— of  the  winds 
of  Piombino. 

Eddies  of  winds  and  of  rain  with  branches  and  trees 
mingled  with  the  air. 

The  emptying  the  boats  of  the  rain  water. 

(Windsor  MSS.  Studes  et  dessins  sur  ?  atmosphere  [Rouveyre]  17  r.) 

*  MS.  ce  p(er)  qucssto  si  gienera  infrallaria  vna  innondatione  di  tnstpareti 
mi<voli  la  quale  effacta  datta  p(f)edctta  pioggia  e  tnquassta  si  fa  mamfessta 
mediante  i  liw&meti  fatti  dal  disscieso  dclla  pioggia  Che  e  vicina  a]]  ochio  chc 
la  vede.*    The  words  printed  in  Italics  are  wanting  in  the  text  as  given  by 
Dr.  Richter  (§  669). 

*  Dr.  Richter  reads  'saranno*  (for  MS.  'sarrano'),  but  text  is  I  think 
*  scorrano/  presumably  for  '  scorrono.* 

3  The  sentence  within  brackets  is  crossed  through  in  the  MS. 


210  OF  PERSPECTIVE 

III  PERSPECTIVE,  AND  LIGHT  AND  SHADE 

Among  the  various  studies  of  natural  processes  that  of 
light  gives  most  pleasure  to  those  who  contemplate  it ; 
and  among  the  noteworthy  characteristics  of  mathema- 
tical science  the  certainty  of  its  demonstrations  is  what 
operates  most  powerfully  to  elevate  the  minds  of  its 
investigators.  Perspective  therefore  is  to  be  preferred 
to  all  the  formularies  and  systems  of  the  schoolmen,  for 
in  its  province  the  complex  beam  of  light  is  made  to 
show  the  stages  of  its  development,  wherein  is  found 
the  glory  not  only  of  mathematical  but  also  of  physical 
science>  adorned  as  it  is  with  the  flowers  of  both*  And 
whereas  its  propositions  have  been  expanded  with  much 
circumlocution  I  will  epitomise  them  with  conclusive 
brevity,  introducing,  however,  illustrations  drawn  either 
from  nature  or  from  mathematical  science  according  to 
the  nature  of  the  subject,  and  sometimes  deducing  the 
results  from  the  causes  and  at  other  times  the  causes 
from  the  results ;  adding  also  to  my  conclusions  some 
which  are  not  contained  -in  these,  but  which  {nevertheless 
are  to  be  inferred  from  them  ;  even  as  the  Lord  who  is 
tfte  Light  of  all  things  shall  vouchsafe  to  reveal  to  me 
who  seek  to  interpret  this  light, — and  consequently  I 

will  divide  the  present  work  into  three  parts. 

(C.  A.  203  r.  a.) 

PREAMBLE   TO    PERSPECTIVE CONCERNING    THE 

FUNCTION    OF   THE    EYE 

Consider  now,  O  Reader,  what  trust  can  we  place  in 
the  ancients  who  have  set  out  to  define  the  nature  of  the 
soul  and  of  life, — things  incapable  of  proof, — whilst 


OF  PERSPECTIVE  *n 

those  things  which  by  experience  may  always  be  clearly 
known  and  proved  have  for  so  many  centuries  either 
remained  unknown  or  have  been  wrongly  interpreted. 

The  eye  which  thus  clearly  offers  proof  of  its  func- 
tions has  even  down  to  our  own  times  been  defined  by 
countless  writers  in  one  way,  but  I  find  by  experience 
that  it  acts  in  another.  (C.  A.n^v.  a.) 

Perspective  is  the  bridle  and  rudder  of  painting. 

(MS.  2038,  Bib.  Nat.  13  r.) 

Perspective  is  a  rational  demonstration  whereby  ex- 
perience confirms  how  all  things  transmit  their  images  to 
the  eye  by  pyramidal  lines.  By  pyramidal  lines  I  mean 
those  which  start  from  the  extremities  of  the  surface  of 
bodies  and  by  gradually  converging  from  a  distance 
arrive  at  the  same  point ;  the  said  point  being,  as  I  shall 
show,  in  this  i  particular  case  located  in  the  eye,  which  is 
the  universal  judge  of  all  objects.  I  call  a  point  that 
which  cannot  be  divided  up  into  any  parts ;  and  as  this 
point  which  is  situated  in  the  eye  is  indivisible  no  body 
can  be  seen  by  the  eye  which  is  not  greater  than  this 
point,  and  this  being  the  case  it  is  necessary  that  the 
lines  which  extend  from  the  object  to  the  point  should 
be  pyramidal.  And  if  any  one  should  wish  to  prove 
that  the  faculty  of  sight  does  not  belong  to  this  point 
but  rather  to  that  black  spot  which  is  seen  in  the  centre 
of  the  pupil,  one  might  reply  to  him  that  a  small  object 
never  could  diminish  at  any  distance,  as  for  example  a 
grain  of  millet  or  panic-seed  or  other  similar  thing, 'and 
that  this  thing  which  was  greater  than  the  said  point 
could  never  be  entirely  seen.  (A.  10  r.) 


3i*  OF  PERSPECTIVE 

The  body  of  the  atmosphere  is  full  of  an  infinite 
number  of  the  pyramids  composed  of  radiating  straight 
lines  which  are  caused  by  the  boundaries  of  the  surfaces 
of  the  bodies  in  shadow  that  are  found  there,  and  the 
further  they  are  away  from  the  object  which  produces 
them  the  more  their  angle  becomes  acute.  And  al- 
though they  intersect  and  interlace  in  their  passage, 
nevertheless  they  do  not  become  confused  with  each 
other  but  proceed  with  divergent  course,  spreading  them- 
selves out  and  becoming  diffused  through  all  the  sur- 
rounding air*  And  they  are  of  equal  power  among 
themselves,  all  equal  to  each,  and  each  equal  to  all,  and 
by  means  of  them  are  transmitted  the  images  of  the 
objects,  and  these  are  transmitted  all  in  all,  and  all  in 
each  part ;  and  each  pyramid  receives  of  itself  in  each  of 
its  smallest  parts  the  whole  form  of  the  object  which 
produces  it.  (MS.  2038,  Bib.  Nat.  6  «>.) 

OF    THE    ERROR    MADE    BY   THOSE   WHO    PRACTISE 
WITHOUT    SCIENCE 

Those  who  are  enamoured  of  practice  without  science 
are  like  a  pilot  who  goes  into  a  ship  without  rudder  or 
compass  and  never  has  any  certainty  where  he  is  going. 

Practice  should  always  be  based  upon  a  sound  know- 
ledge of  theory,  of  which  perspective  is  the  guide  and 
gateway,  and  without  it  nothing  can  be  done  well  in  any 
kind  of  painting,  (G  S  r.) 

PERSPECTIVE 

Of  things  of  equal  size  that  which  is  further  away 
from  the  eye  will  appear  of  less  bulk.  ($.  K.  M.  //.  15  *.) 


PLATE  9 


BRAMBLE 
(Riibus  Fruttcosus) 


Fact  p.  211 


OF  LINEAR  PERSPECTIVE  ai3 

OF   LINEAR   PERSPECTIVE 

Linear  perspective  has  to  do  with  the  function  of  the 
lines  of  sight,   proving   by  measurement   how  much 
smaller  is  the  second  object  than  the  first  and  the  third 
than  the  second,  and  so  on  continually  until  the  limit  of 
things  seen.     I  find  by  experience  that  -if  the  second 
object  is  as  far  distant  from  the  first  as  the  first  is  from 
your  eye,  although  as  between  themselves  they  may  be 
of  equal  size,  the  second  will  seem  half  as  small  again  as 
the  first ;  and  if  the  third  object  is  equal  in  size  to  the 
second,  and  it  is  as  far -beyond  the  second  as  the  second 
is  from  the  first,1  it  will  appear  half  the  size  of  the 
second  ;  and  thus  by  successive  degrees  at  equal  dis- 
tances the  objects  will  be  continually  lessened  by  half, 
the  second  being  half  the  first, — provided  that  the  inter- 
vening space  does  not  amount  to  as  much  as  twenty 
braccia ;  for  at  the  distance  of  twenty  braccia  a  figure 
resembling  yours  will  lose  four-fifths  of  its  size,  and  at 
a  distance  of  forty  braccia  it  will  lose  nine-tenths,  and 
nineteen-twentieths  at  sixty  braccia,  and  so  by  degrees 
it  will  continue  to  diminish  when  the  plane  of  the  picture 
is  twice  your  own  height  away  from  you,  for  if  the  dis- 
tance only  equals  your  own  height  there  is  a  great  differ- 
ence between  the  first  braccia  and  the  second. 

(MS.  2038,  Bil>.  Nat.  23  r.) 

OF   AERIAL    PERSPECTIVE 

There  is  another  kind  of  perspective  which  I  call 
aerial,  because  by  the  difference  in  the  atmosphere  one 

i  MS.  has 'third/ 


214  OF  AERIAL  PERSPECTIVE 

is  able  to  distinguish  the  various  distances  of  different 
buildings  when  their  bases  appear  to  end  on  a  single  line, 
for  this  would  be  the  appearance  presented  by  a  group 
of  buildings  on  the  far  side  of  a  wall,  all  of  which  as 
seen  above  the  top  of  the  wall  look  to  be  the  same  size ; 
and  if  in  painting  you  wish  to  make  one  seem  further 
away  than  another  you  must  make  the  atmosphere  some- 
what heavy.  You  know  that  in  an  atmosphere  of  uni- 
form density  the  most  distant  things  seen  through  it, 
such  as  the  mountains,  in  consequence  of  the  great 
quantity  of  atmosphere  which  is  between  your  eye  and 
them,  will  appear  blue,  almost  of  the  same  colour  as  the 
atmosphere  when  the  sun  is  in  the  east.  Therefore  you 
should  make  the  building  which  is  nearest  above  the 
wall  of  its  natural  colour,  and  that  which  is  more  dis- 
tant make  less  defined  and  bluer  ;  and  one  which  you 
wish  should  seem  as  far  away  again  make  of  double  the 
depth  of  blue,  and  one  you  desire  should  seem  five  times 
as  far  away  make  five  times  as  blue.  And  as  a  conse- 
quence of  this  rule  it  will  come  about  that  the  buildings 
which  above  a  given  line  appear  to  be  of  the  same  size 
will  be  pkinly  distinguished  as  to  which  are  the  more 
distant  and  which  larger  than  the  others. 

(MS.  2038,  Bib.  Nat.  25  *>.) 


OF   ORDINARY    PERSPECTIVE 

An  object  of  uniform  thickness  and  colour  seen 
against  a  background  of  various  colours  will  appear  not 
to  be  of  uniform  thickness. 

And  if  an  object  of  uniform  thickness  and  of  various 


OF  PERSPECTIVE  IN  PAINTING  215 

colours  is  seen  against  a  background  of  uniform  colour 
the  object  will  seem  of  a  varying  thickness. 

And  in  proportion  as  the  colours  of  the  background, 
or  of  the  object  seen  against  the  background,  have  more 
variety,  the  more  will  their  thickness  seem  to  vary, 
although  the  objects  seen  against  the  background  may 
be  of  equal  thickness.  (/  17  ?.) 

A  dark  object  seen  against  a  light  background  will 
seem  smaller  than  it  is. 

A  light  object  will  appear  greater  in  size  when  it  is 
seen  against  a  background  that  is  darker  in  colour. 

(7i8r.) 

THE    PERSPECTIVE    OF   THE    DISAPPEARANCE    OF   THE 
OUTLINES    OF    OPAQUE    BODIES 

If  the  true  outlines  of  opaque  bodies  become  indistin- 
guishable at  any  short  distance  they  will  be  still  more  in- 
visible at  great  distances  ;  and  since  it  is  by  the  outlines 
that  the  true  shape  of  each  opaque  body  becomes  known, 
whenever  because  of  distance  we  lack  the  perception  of 
the  whole  we  shall  lack  yet  more  the  perception  of  its 
parts  and  outlines.  (j?  80  r.) 

OF   THE    REQUISITES    OF   PAINTING 

The  first  requisite  of  painting  is  that  the  bodies  which 
it  represents  should  appear  in  relief,  and  that  the  scenes 
which  surround  them  with  effects  of  distance  should 
seem  to  enter  into  the  plane  in  which  the  picture  is 
produced  by  means  of  the  three  parts  of  perspective, 
namely  the  diminution  in  the  distinctness  of  the  form  of 
bodies,  the  diminution  in  their  size,  and  the  diminution 


2x6          HOW  THE  AIR  IS  FULL  OF  IMAGES 

in  their  colour.  Of  these  three  divisions  of  perspective 
the  first  has  its  origin  in  the  eye,  the  two  others  are 
derived  from  the  atmosphere  that  is  interposed  between 
the  eye  and  the  objects  which  the  eye  beholds. 

The  second  requisite  of  painting  is  that  the  actions 
should  be  appropriate  and  have  a  variety  in  the  figures 
so  that  the  men  may  not  all  look  as  though  they  were 
brothers.  *  (£79  *•) 

PERSPECTIVE 

The  air  is  full  of  an  infinite  number  of  images  of  the 
things  which  are  distributed  through  it,  and  all  of  these 
are  represented  in  all,  all  in  one,  and  all  in  each.  Con- 
sequently it  so  happens  that  if  two  mirrors  be  placed 
so  as  to  be  exactly  facing  each  other,  the  first  will  be 
reflected  in  the  second  and  the  second  in  the  first.  Now 
the  first  being  reflected  in  the  second  carries  to  it  its 
own  image  together  with  all  the  images  which  are  re- 
presented in  it,  among  these  being  the  image  of  the 
second  mirror ;  and  so  they  continue  from  image  to 
image  on  to  infinity,  in  such  a  way  that  each  mirror 
has  an  infinite  number  of  mirrors  within  it,  each  smaller 
than  the  kst,  and  one  inside  another. 

By  this  example,  therefore,  it  is  clearly  proved  that 
each  thing  transmits  the  image  of  [itself]  to  all  those 
places  where  the  thing  itself  is  visible,  and  so  conversely 
this  object  is  able  to  receive  into  itself  all  the  images  of 
the  things  which  are  in  front  of  it. 

Consequently  the  eye  transmits  its  own  image  through 
the  air  to  all  the  objects  which  are  in  front  of  it,  and 
receives  them  into  itself,  that  is  on  its  surface,  whence 


HOW  THE  AIR  IS  FULL  OF  IMAGES         217 

the  understanding  takes  them  and  considers  them,  and 
such  as  it  finds  pleasing  these  it  commits  to  the  memory. 

So  I  hold  that  the  invisible  powers  of  the  images  in 
the  eyes  may  project  themselves  forth  to  the  object  as 
do  the  images  of  the  object  to  the  eye. 

An  instance  of  how  the  images  of  all  things  are 
spread  thrpugh  the  air  may  be  seen  in  a  number  of 
mirrors  placed  in  a  circle,  and  they  will  then  reflect  each 
other  for  an  infinite  number  of  times,  for  as  the  image 
of  one  reaches  another  it  rebounds  back  to  its  source, 
and  then  becoming  less  rebounds  yet  again  to  the  ob- 
ject, and  then  returns,  and  so  continues  for  an  infinite 
number  of  times. 

If  at  night  you  place  a  light  between  two  flat  mirrors 
which  are  a  cubit's  space  apart,  you  will  see  in  each  of 
these  mirrors  an  infinite  number  of  lights  one  smaller 
than  another  in  succession. 

If  at  night  you  place  a  light  between  the  walls  of  a 
[room],  every  part  of  these  walls  will  become  tinged  by 
the  images  of  this  light,  and  all  those  parts  which  are 
exposed  to  the  light  will  likewise  be  directly  lit  by  it ; 
that  is  when  there  is  no  obstacle  between  them  to  inter- 
rupt the  transmission  of  the  images. 

This  same  example  is  even  more  apparent  in  the 
transmission  of  solar  rays,  which  all  i[pass]  through  all 
objects,  and  consequently  into  each  minutest  part  of 
each  object,  and  each  ray  of  itself  conveys  to  its  object 
the  image  of  its  source. 

That  each  body  alone  of  itself  fills  the  whole  sur- 
rounding air  with  its  images,  and  that  this  same  air  is 
[able]  at  the  same  time  to  receive  into  itself  the  images 


2x8  OF  DIMINUTION  IN  PERSPECTIVE 

of  the  countless  other  bodies  which  are  within  it  is 
clearly  shown  by  these  instances,  and  each  body  is  seen 
in  its  entirety  throughout  the  whole  of  the  said  atmo- 
sphere and  each  in  each  minutest  part  of  the  same,  and 
all  throughout  the  whole  of  it  and  all  in  each  minutest 
part ;  each  in  all,  and  all  in  every  part.  (C.  A.  138  r.  ^.) 

OF   PAINTING    AND    PERSPECTIVE 

There  are  three  divisions  of  perspective  as  employed 
in  painting.  Of  these  the  first  relates  to  the  diminution 
in  the  volume  of  opaque  bodies ;  the  second  treats  of 
the  diminution  and  disappearance  of  the  outlines  of 
these  opaque  bodies ;  the  third  is  of  their  diminution 
and  loss  of  colour  when  at  a  great  distance. 


OF   THE    PERSPECTIVE    OF   THE   DIMINUTION    OF 
OPAQUE    BODIES 

Among  opaque  bodies  of  equal  magnitude  the 
diminution  apparent  in  their  size  will  vary  according 
to  their  distance  from  the  eye  which  sees  them ;  but  it 
will  be  in  inverse  proportion,  for  at  the  greater  distance 
the  opaque  body  appears  less,  and  at  a  less  distance 
this  body  will  appear  greater,  and  on  this  is  founded 
linear  perspective.  And  show  secondly  how  every 
object  at  a  great  distance  loses  first  that  portion  of 
itself  which  is  the  thinnest.  Thus  with  a  horse,  it 
would  lose  the  legs  sooner  than  the  head  because  the 
legs  are  thinner  than  the  head,  and  it  would  lose  the 
neck  before  the  trunk  for  the  same  reason.  It  follows 


OF  THE  ORDER  OF  DIMINUTION  219 

therefore  that  the  part  of  the  horse  which  the  eye 
will  be  able  last  to  discern  will  be  the  trunk,  retaining 
still  its  oval  form,  but  rather  approximating  to  the  shape 
'of  a  cylinder,  and  it  will  lose  its  thickness  sooner  than  its 
length  from  the  second  conclusion  aforesaid.  If  the  eye 
is  immovable  the  perspective  terminates  its  distance  in 
a  point ;  but  if  the  eye  moves  in  a  straight  line  the 
perspective  ends  in  a  line,  because  it  is  proved  that 
the  line  is  produced  by  the  movement  of  the  point, 
and  our  sight  is  fixed  upon  the  point,  and  consequently 
it  follows  that  as  the  sight  moves  the  point  moves,  and 
as  the  point  moves  the  line  is  produced.  (E  So  v.) 

In  every  figure  placed  at  a  great  distance  you  lose 
first  the  knowledge  of  its  most  minute  parts  and  preserve 
to  the  last  that  of  the  larger  parts,  losing,  however, 
the  perception  of  all  their  extremities,  and'they  become 
oval  or  spherical  in  shape,  and  their  boundaries  are 
indistinct.  (G  53  v.) 

Having,  as  I  think,  sufficiently  treated  of  the  natures 
and  different  characteristics  of  primary  and  derived 
shadows  and  the  manner  of  their  incidence,  it  seems 
to  me  that  the  time  has  now  come  to  explain  the 
different  results  upon  the  various  surfaces  which  are 
touched  by  these  shadows. 

SHADOW   IS   THE    WITHHOLDING   OF   LIGHT 

It  seems  to  me  that  the  shadows  are  of  supreme 
importance  in  perspective,  seeing  that  without  them 
opaque  and  solid  bodies  will  be  indistinct,  both  as  to 


320       OF  PRIMARY  AND  DERIVED  SHADOWS 

what  lies  within  their  boundaries  and  also  as  to  their 
boundaries  themselves,  unless  these  are  seen  against  a 
background  differing  in  colour  ro  that  of  the  substance  ; 
and   consequently  in   the  first   proposition   I  treat  of 
shadows,  and  say  in  this  connection  that  every  opaque 
body  is  surrounded  and  has  its  surface  clothed  with, 
shadows  and  lights,  and  to  this  1  devote  the  first  book. 
Moreover  these  shadows  are  in  themselves  of  varying 
degrees  of  darkness  because  they  are  caused  by  the 
absence  of  a  variable  quantity  of  luminous  rays ;  and 
these  I  call  primary  shadows,  because  they  are  the  first 
shadows  and  so  form  a  covering  to  the  bodies  to  which 
they  attach  themselves,  and  to  this  I  shall  devote  the 
second  book.     From  these  primary  shadows  there  issue 
certain  dark  rays  which  are  diffused  throughout  the  air 
and  vary  in  intensity  according  to  the  varieties  of  the 
primary  shadows  from  which  they  are  derived ;  and  con- 
sequently I  call  these  shadows  derived  shadows,  because 
they  have  their  origin  in  other  shadows ;  and  of  this  I 
will  make  the  third  book.      Moreover  these   derived 
shadows    in   striking    upon   anything  create   as    many 
different  effects  as  are  the  different  places  where  they 
strike  ;  and  of  this  I  will  make  the  fourth  book.     And 
since  where  the  derived   shadow  strikes,  it   is  always 
surrounded  by  the  striking  of  the  luminous  rays,  it 
leaps  back  with  these  in  a  reflex  stream  towards  its 
source  and  meets  the  primary  shadow,  and  mingles  with 
and  becomes  changed  into  it,  altering  thereby  somewhat 
of  its  nature ;  and  to  this  I  will  devote  the  fifth  book. 
In  addition  to  this  I  will  make  the  sixth  book  to  contain 
an  investigation  of  the  many  different  varieties  of  the 


OF  THEIR  INCIDENCE  221 

rebound  of  the  reflected  rays  which  will  modif)  the 
primary  shadow  by  as  many  different  colours  as  there 
are  different  points  from  whence  these  luminous  reflected 
rays  proceed.  Further,  I  will  make  the  seventh  division 
treat  of  the  various  distances  that  may  exist  between  the 
point  of  striking  of  each  reflected  ray  and  the  point  from 
whence  it  proceeds,  and  of  the  various  different  shades 
of  colour  which  it  acquires  in  striking  against  opaque 
bodies.  (C.  A.  250,  r.  a.) 

OF    PAINTING 

Shadows  and  lights  are  observed  by  the  eye  under 
three  aspects.  One  of  these  is  when  the  eye  and  the 
light  are  both  on  the  same  side  of  the  body  which  is 
seen ;  the  second  is  when  the  eye  is  in  front  of  the 
object  and  the  light  behind  it ;  and  the  third  is  that  in 
which  the  eye  is  in  front  of  the  object  and  the  light  at 
the  side,  in  such  a  way  that  when  the  line  which  extends 
from  the  object  to  the  eye  meets  that  which  extends 
from  the  object  to  the  light,  they  will  at  their  junction 1 
form  a  right  angle.  (K  105  [25]  v.) 

OF  SHADOW 

Where  the  shadow  is  bounded  by  light,  note  carefully 
where  it  is  lighter  or  darker,  and  where  it  is  more  or 
less  indistinct  towards  the  light ;  and  above  all  I  would 
remind  you  that  in  youthful  figures  you  should  not 
make  the  shadows  end  like  stone,  for  the  flesh  retains 
a  slight  transparency,  as  may  be  observed  by  looking  at 

1  MS*  cOgtttiO,  and  so  Dr.  Richter.    M.  Ravaisson-Mollien  has '  cognition/ 


222  OF  DISTANT  OBJECTS 

a  hand  held  between  the  eye  and  the  sun,  when  it  is 
seen  to  flush  red  and  to  be  of  a  luminous  transparency. 
And  let  the  part  which  is  brightest  in  colour  be  between 
the  lights  and  the  shadows.  And  if  you  wish  to  see 
what  depth  of  shadow  is  needed  for  the  flesh,  cast  a 
shadow  over  it  with  your  finger,  and  according  as  you 
wish  it  to  be  lighter  or  darker,  hold  your  finger  nearer 
or  farther  away  from  the  picture,  and  then  copy  this 
shadow.  (MS.  2038,  Bit.  Nat.  31  *.) 


HOW   SMALL    FIGURES   OUGHT    CONSEQUENTLY   TO    BE 
LEFT    UNFINISHED 

I  say  that  when  objects  appear  of  minute  size,  it  is 
due  to  the  said  objects  being  at  a  distance  from  the 
eye  ;  and  when  this  is  the  case,  there  must  of  necessity 
be  a  considerable  quantity  of  atmosphere  between  the 
eye  and  the  object,  and  this  atmosphere  interferes 
with  the  distinctness  of  the  form  of  the  objects,  and 
consequently  the  minute  details  of  these  bodies  will 
become  indistinguishable  and  unrecognisable.  There- 
fore, O  painter,  you  should  make  your  lesser  figures 
only  suggested,  and  not  highly  finished  ;  for  if  you 
do  otherwise,  you  will  produce  effects  contrary  to  those 
of  nature,  your  mistress. 

The  object  is  small  because  of  the  great  space  which 
exists  between  the  eye  and  it.  This  great  space  contains 
within  itself  a  great  quantity  of  atmosphere ;  and  this 
atmosphere  forms  of  itself  a  dense  body  which  interposes 
and  shuts  out  from  the  eye  the  minute  details  of  the 
objects.  (MS.  2038,  Bib.  Nat.  31  *.) 


OF  FACES  IN  DISTANCE  22$ 

PAINTING 

Among  shadows  of  equal  strength  that  which  is 
nearest  to  the  eye  will  seem  of  least  density. 

(MS.  2038.  Btt.  Nat.  9  v.) 

The  derived  shadow  is  stronger  in  proportion  as  it  is 
nearer  to  its  source.  (K  in  [31]  p.) 

Primary  and  derived  shadow  is  deeper  when  it  is  caused 
by  the  light  of  the  candle  than  by  that  of  the  atmosphere. 

(7r.  Tav.  24  a.) 
OF    PAINTING 

Shadows  which  you  see  with  difficulty,  and  whose 
boundaries  you  cannot  define, — but  which  you  only 
apprehend  and  reproduce  in  your  work  with  some  hesi- 
tation of  judgment — these  you  should  not  represent  as 
finished  or  sharply  defined,  for  the  result  would  be  that 
your  work  would  seem  wooden.  (MS.  2038,  Bil>.  Nat.  14  «•.) 

WHY   FACES   AT  A    DISTANCE   APPEAR    DARK 

We  see  clearly  that  all  the  images  of  the  visible  things 
both  large  and  small  which  serve  us  as  objects  enter  to 
the  sense  through  the  tiny  pupil  of  the  eye.  If,  then, 
through  so  small  an  entrance  there  passes  the  image 
of  the  immensity  of  the  sky  and  of  the  earth,  the  face 
of  man — being  almost  nothing  amid  such  vast  images 
of  things,  because  of  the  distance  which  diminishes  it — 
occupies  so  little  of  the  pupil  as  to  remain  indistinguish- 
able ;  and  having  to  pass  from  the  outer  surface  to 
the  seat  of  the  sense  through  a  dark  medium,  that  is, 


224  OF  FIGURES  IN  DISTANCE 

through  the  hollow  cells  which  appear  dark,  this  image 
when  not  of  a  strong  colour  is  affected  by  the  darkness 
through  which  it  passes,  and  on  reaching  the  seat  of  the 
sense  it  appears  dark.  No  other  reason  can  be  advanced 
to  account  for  the  blackness  of  this  point  in  the  pupil ; 
and  since  it  is  filled  with  a  moisture  transparent  like  the 
air,  it  acts  like  a  hole  made  in  a  board  ;  and  when  looked 
into  it  appears  black,  and  the  objects  seen  in  the  air, 
whether  light  or  dark,  become  indistinct  in  the  darkness. 

OF   SHADOWS   IN   THE    FAR   DISTANCE 

Shadows  become  lost  in  the  far  distance,  because  the 
vast  expanse  of  luminous  atmosphere  which  lies  between 
the  eye  and  the  object  seen  suffuses  the  shadows  of  the 
object  with  its  own  colour. 

WHY  A   MAN   SEEN    AT   A    CERTAIN   DISTANCE    CANNOT 
BE    RECOGNISED 

Diminishing  perspective  shows  us  that  in  proportion 
as  an  object  is  further  away  the  smaller  it  becomes*    And 
if  you  look  at  a  man  who  is  at  the  distance  of  a  bowshot 
away  from  you  and  put  the  eye  of  a  small  needle  close 
to  your  eye  you  will  be  able  through  this  to  see  the 
images  of  many  men  transmitted  to  the  eye,  and  these 
will  all  be  contained  at  one  and  the  same  time  within 
the  eye  of  the  said  needle.     If  then  the  image  of  a  man 
who  is  distant  from  you  the  space  of  a  bowshot  is  so 
transmitted  to  your  eye  as  to  occupy  only  a  small  part 
of  the  eye  of  a  needle,  how  should  you  be  able  in  so 
small  a  figure  to  distinguish  or  discern   the  nose  or 


OF  PERSPECTIVE  225 

mouth  or  any  detail  of  the  body?  And  not  seeing 
these  you  cannot  recognise  the  man  since  he  does  not 
show  you  the  features  which  cause  men  to  differ  in 
appearance.  (MS.  2038,  JW.  Nat.  20  v.) 

OF    PAINTING 

The  true  knowledge  of  the  form  of  an  object  becomes 
gradually  lost  in  proportion  as  distance  decreases  its 
size.  (C.  A.  176  v.  &) 

WHY    OF   TWO   OBJECTS   OF    EQUAL   SIZE    THE    PAINTED 
ONE   WILL   LOOK    LARGER   THAN   THAT   IN    RELIEF 

This  proposition  is  not  so  easy  to  expound  as  many 
others,  but  I  will  nevertheless  attempt  to  prove  it,  if 
not  completely,  then  in  part.  Diminishing  perspective 
demonstrates  by  reason  that  objects  diminish  in  propor- 
tion as  they  are  farther  away  from  the  eye,  and  this 
theory  is  entirely  confirmed  by  experience.  Now  the 
lines  of  sight  which  are  between  the  object  and  the  eye 
when  they  reach  the  surface  of  the  painting  are  all 
intersected  at  a  uniform  boundary  ;,  while  the  lines  which 
pass  from  the  eye  to  the  piece  of  sculpture  have  different 
boundaries  and  are  of  varying  lengths.  The  line  which 
is  the  longest  extends  to  a  limb  which  is  farther  away 
than  the  rest,  and  consequently  this  limb  appears 
smaller  ;  and  there  are  many  lines  longer  than  others, 
for  the  reason  that  there  are  many  small  parts  one 
farther  away  than  another,  and  being  farther  away  these 
of  necessity  appear  smaller,  and  by  appearing  smaller 
they  effect  a  corresponding  decrease  in  the  whole  mass 


2*6  OF  REFLECTION 

of  the  object.  But  this  does  not  happen  in  the  painting, 
because  as  the  lines  of  sight  end  at  the  same  distance  it 
follows  that  they  do  not  undergo  diminution,  and  as  the 
parts  are  not  themselves  diminished  they  do  not  lessen 
the  whole  mass  of  the  object,  and  consequently  the 
diminution  is  not  perceptible  in  the  painting  as  it  is  in 
sculpture.  (MS.  2038,  Bib.  Nat.  19  r.) 

OF    REFLECTION 

Reflections  are  caused  by  bodies  of  a  bright  nature 
and  of  a  smooth  and  half  opaque  surface,  which  when 
struck  by  the  light  drive  it  back  again  to  the  first  object 
like  the  rebound  of  a  ball. 

OF    WHERE   THERE   CANNOT    BE    LUMINOUS   REFLECTION 

All  solid  bodies  have  their  surfaces  covered  by  various 
degrees  of  light  and  shadow.  The  lights  are  of  two 
kinds;  the  one  is  called  original,  the  other  derived. 
Original  I  call  that  which  proceeds  from  the  flame  of  the 
fire,  or  from  the  light  of  the  sun,  or  of  the  atmosphere. 
Derived  light  is  the  light  reflected.  But  to  return  to 
the  promised  definition  I  say  that  there  is  no  luminous 
reflection  on  the  side  of  the  body  which  is  turned 
towards  objects  in  shadow  such  as  shaded  scenes, 
meadows  with  grasses  of  varying  height,  green  or  bare 
woods — for  these,  although  the  part  of  each  branch 
turned  to  the  original  light  is  imbued  with  the  attributes 
of  this  light,  have  nevertheless  so  many  shadows  cast  by 
each  branch  separately,  and  so  many  shadows  cast  by  one 
branch  on  another  that  in  the  whole  mass  there  results 


OF  SHADOWS  AND  LIGHTS  227 

such  a  depth  of  shadow  that  the  light  is  as  nothing ; 
hence  objects  such  as  these  cannot  throw  any  reflected 

light  upon  bodies  opposite  to  them. 

(MS.  2038,  Bib.  Nat.  14  p.) 

That  place  will  be  most  luminous  which  is  farthest 
away  from  mountains.  (H  68  [20]  r.) 

PERSPECTIVE 

The  shadows  or  reflections  of  things  seen  in  moving 
water,  that  is  to  say  with  tiny  waves,  will  always  be 
greater  than  the  object  outside  the  water  which  causes 
them.  (H  76  [28]  *>.) 

The  atmosphere  is  blue  because  of  the  darkness  which 
is  above  it,  for  black  and  white  together  make  blue. 

(#77  [29]*.) 

The  part  of  the  cloud  which  is  nearest  to  the  eye  will 
seem  swifter  than  that  which  is  higher  ;  and  for  this 
reason  they  often  appear  to  be  moving  in  contrary 
directions,  one  to  the  other.  (H  89  [41]  r.) 

OF    PAINTING 

The  high  lights  or  the  lustre  of  any  particular  object 
will  not  be  situated  in  the  centre  of  the  illuminated  part, 
but  will  make  as  many  changes  of  position  as  the  eye 
that  beholds  it.  (H  90  [4*]  *.) 

HOW    WHITE    BODIES    OUGHT   TO    BE    REPRESENTED 

When  you  are  representing  a  white  body  surrounded 
by  ample  space,  since  the  white  has  no  colour  in  itself  it 
is  tinged  and  in  part  transformed  by  the  colour  of  what 


2*8       OF  THE  TREATMENT  OF  WHITE  BODIES 

is  set  over  against  it.     If  you  are  looking  at  a  woman 
dressed  in  white  in  the  midst  of  a  landscape  the  side  of 
her  that  is  exposed  to  the  sun  will  be  so  dazzling  in 
colour  that  parts  of  it,  like  the  sun  itself,  will  cause  pain 
to  the  sight,  and  as  for  the  side  exposed  to  the  atmosphere 
— which  is  luminous  because  of  the  rays  of  the  sun  being 
interwoven  with  it  and  penetrating  it — since  this  atmo- 
sphere is  itself  blue,  the  side  of  the  woman  which  is 
exposed  to  it  will  appear  steeped  in  blue.    If  the  surface 
of  the  ground  near  to  her  be  meadows,  and  the  woman  be 
placed  between  a  meadow  lit  by  the  sun  and  the  sun 
itself  you  will  find  that  all  the  parts  of  the  folds  [of  her 
dress]  which  are  turned  towards  the  meadow  will  be 
dyed  by  the  reflected  rays  to  the  colour  of  the  meadow  ; 
and  thus  she  becomes  changed  into  the  colours  of  the 
objects   near,   both   those    luminous    and    those    non- 
luminous.  (MS.  2038,  Bib.  Nat.  20  r.) 

OF    COLOURS 

Of  colours  of  equal  whiteness  that  will  seem  most 
dazzling  which  is  on  the  darkest  background,  and  black 
will  seem  most  intense  when  it  is  against  a  background 
of  greater  whiteness. 

Red  also  will  seem  most  vivid  when  against  a  yellow 
background,  and  so  in  like  manner  with  all  the  colours 
when  set  against  those  which  present  the  sharpest  con- 
trast, (c.  A.  184*.  c.) 

PAINTING 

Since  white  is  not  a  colour  but  is  capable  of  becoming 
the  recipient  of  every  colour,  when  a  white  object  is  seen 


OF  COLOURS  229 

in  the  open  air  all  its  shadows  are  blue  ;  and  this  comes 
about  in  accordance  with  the  fourth  proposition,  which 
says  that  :  —  'the  surface  of  every  opaque  body  partakes 
of  the  colour  of  surrounding  objects/  As  therefore  this 
white  object  is  deprived  of  the  light  of  the  sun  by  the 
interposition  of  some  object  which  comes  between 
the  sun  and  it,  all  that  portion  of  it  which  is  exposed 
to  the  sun  and  the  atmosphere,  continues  to  partake  of 
the  colour  of  the  sun  and  the  atmosphere,  and  that  part 
which  is  not  exposed  to  the  sun  remains  in  shadow,  and 
only  partakes  of  the  colour  of  the  atmosphere.  And  if  this 
white  object  should  neither  reflect  the  green  of  the  fields 
which  stretch  out  to  the  horizon  nor  yet  face  the  bright- 
ness of  the  horizon  itself,  it  would  undoubtedly  appear  of 
such  simple  colour  as  the  atmosphere  showed  itself  to  be. 


OF    PAINTING 

The  colour  of  the  object  illuminated  partakes  of  the 
colour  of  that  which  illuminates  it.  (£37  r.) 

The  colours  of  the  middle  of  the  rainbow  mingle  with 
each  other. 

The  bow  itself  is  neither  in  the  rain  nor  in  the  eye  that 
sees  it,  although  it  is  produced  by  the  rain,  the  sun,  and 
the  eye, 

The  rainbow  is  invariably  seen  by  the  eye  which  is 
situated  between  the  rain  and  the  body  of  the  sun,  and 
consequently  when  the  sun  is  in  the  east  and  the  rain  in 
the  west  the  rainbow  is  produced  upon  the  western  rain. 

(E  ewer  i  v.) 


230  OF  COLOUR  IN  PERSPECTIVE 

HOW    THE    PAINTER    OUGHT    TO    PRACTISE    HIMSELF 
IN   THE    PERSPECTIVE    OF   COLOURS 

As  a  means  of  practising  this  perspective  of  the  varia- 
tion and  loss  or  diminution  of  the  proper  essence  of 
colours,  take  at  distances  a  hundred  braccia  apart  ob- 
jects standing  in  the  landscape,  such  as  trees,  houses, 
men,  and  places,  and  in  front  of  the  first  tree  fix  a 
piece  of  glass  so  that  it  is  quite  steady,  and  then  let 
your  eye  rest  upon  it  and  trace  out  a  tree  upon  the  glass 
above  the  outline  of  the  tree  ;  and  afterwards  remove 
the  glass  so  far  to  one  side  that  the  actual  tree  seems 
almost  to  touch  the  one  that  you  have  drawn.  Then 
colour  your  drawing  in  such  a  way  that  the  two  are 
alike  in  colour  and  form,  and  that  if  you  close  one  eye 
both  seem  painted  on  the  glass  and  the  same  distance 
away.  Then  proceed  in  the  same  way  with  a  second  and 
a  third  tree  at  distances  of  a  hundred  braccia  from  each 
other.  And  these  will  always  serve  as  your  standards 
and  teachers  when  you  are  at  work  on  pictures  where 
they  can  be  applied,  and  they  will  cause  the  work  to 
be  successful  in  its  distance.  But  I  find  that  it  is  a  rule 
that  the  second  is  reduced  to  four-fifths  the  size  of  the 
first  when  it  is  twenty  braccia  distant  from  it. 

(MS.  2038,  Bib.  Nat.  ^^  v.) 

OF    PAINTING 

The  outlines  and  forms  of  each  part  of  bodies  in 
shadow  are  poorly  distinguished  in  their  shadows  and 
lights,  but  in  such  parts  as  are  between  the  lights  and 
shadows  parts  of  these  bodies  are  of  the  first  degree  of 
distinctness.  (G  32  r.) 


OF  OUTLINES  AND  LIGHTS  231 

THE    BOUNDARIES   OF    BODIES   ARE   THE    LEAST    OF 
ALL   THINGS 

The  truth  of  this  proposition  is  proved  by  the  fact 
that  the  boundary  of  the  substance  is  a  surface,  which 
is  neither  a  part  of  the  body  enclosed  by  this  surface 
nor  a  part  of  the  atmosphere  which  surrounds  this  body, 
but  is  the  medium  interposed  between  the  atmosphere 
and  the  body,  as  is  proved  in  its  place.  But  the  lateral 
boundaries  of  these  bodies  are  the  boundary  line  of 
the  surface,  which  line  is  of  invisible  thickness.  There- 
fore, O  painter,  do  not  surround  your  bodies  with  lines, 
and  especially  when  making  objects  less  than  their 
natural  size,  for  these  not  only  cannot  show  their  lateral 
boundaries,  but  their  parts  will  be  invisible  from  dis- 
tance. (G  37  r.) 

OF  LIGHTS 

The  lights  which  illumine  opaque  bodies  are  of  four 
kinds,  that  is  to  say  universal  as  that  of  the  atmosphere 
within  our  horizon,  and  particular  like  that  of  the  sun  or 
of  a  window  or  door  or  other  space  ;  and  the  third  is 
reflected  light ;  and  there  is  also  a  fourth  which  passes 
through  substances  of  the  degree  of  transparency  of  linen 
or  paper  or  such  like  things,  but  not  those  transparent  like 
glass  or  crystal  or  other  diaphanous  bodies  with  which 
the  effect  is  the  same  as  if  there  was  nothing  interposed 
between  the  body  in  shadow  and  the  light  that  illumines 
it ;  and  of  these  we  shall  treat  separately  in  our  discourse. 

(C  3  «0 


23*  OF  THE  EFFECT  OF  ATMOSPHERE 

OF   THE    ATMOSPHERE    INTERPOSED    BETWEEN   THE 
EYE    AND    THE  VISIBLE    OBJECT 

The  object  will  appear  more  or  less  distinct  at  the 
same  distance  in  proportion  as  the  atmosphere  inter- 
posed between  the  eye  and  this  object  is  of  greater  ofc 
less  clearness.  Since  therefore  you  are  aware  that  the 
greater  or  less  quantity  of  atmosphere  interposed  be- 
tween the  eye  and  the  object  causes  the  outlines  of  these 
objects  to  seem  more  or  less  blurred  to  the  eye,  you 
should  represent  the  stages  of  loss  of  definiteness  of 
these  bodies  in  the  same  proportion  to  each  other  as 
that  of  their  distances  from  the  eye  of  the  beholder. 

(E  79  0.) 

HOW   THE   CONDITION    OF   THE    ATMOSPHERE   AFFECTS 
THE    LIGHTS   AND    SHADOWS 

That  body  will  present  the  strongest  contrast  between 
its  lights  and  shadows  which  is  seen  by  the  strongest 
light,  such  as  the  light  of  the  sun  or  at  night  by  the 
light  of  a  fire  ;  but  this  should  rarely  be  employed  in 
painting  because  the  works  will  remain  hard  and  devoid 
of  grace. 

A  body  which  is  in  a  moderate  light  will  have  but 
little  difference  between  its  lights  and  shadows ;  and 
this  comes  to  pass  at  the  fall  of  the  evening,  or  when 
there  are  clouds  :  works  painted  then  are  soft  in  feeling 
and  every  kind  of  face  acquires  a  charm.  Thus  in 
every  way  extremes  are  injurious.  Excess  of  light 
makes  things  seem  hard;1  and  too  much  darkness 

1  MS.  has  *il  tropo  lume  fa  crudo.*    So  also  Dr.  Richter.     The  text  of 
M.  Ravaisson-Mollien  in  place  of  *  fa  crudo '  has  « facendo/ 


OF  LIGHTS  233 

does   not   admit   of  our    seeing   them.     The   mean  is 
excellent. 


OF    SMALL    LIGHTS 

The  lights  cast  from  small  windows  also  present  a 
strong  contrast  of  light  and  shadow,  more  especially  if 
the  chamber  lit  by  them  is  large ;  and  this  is  not  good 
to  use  in  painting.  (MS.  2038,  Bib.  Nat.  33  *.) 

AT   WHAT    HEIGHT   THE   LIGHT    SHOULD    BE   IN    ORDER 
TO    DRAW    FROM    NATURE 

When  you  are  drawing  from  nature  the  light  should 
be  from  the  north,  so  that  it  may  not  vary ;  and  if 
it  is  from  the  south  keep  the  window  covered  with  a 
curtain  so  that  though  the  sun  shine  upon  it  all  day  long 
the  light  will  undergo  no  change.  The  elevation  of  the 
light  should  be  such  that  each  body  casts  a  shadow  on 
the  ground  which  is  of  the  same  length  as  its  height. 

(MS.  2038,  Bib.  Nat.  33  r.) 

WHY    BEAUTIFUL    COLOURS   SHOULD    BE    IN    THE    LIGHTS 

Since  we  see  that  the  quality  of  colours  becomes 
known  by  means  of  light,  it  is  to  be  inferred  that  where 
there  is  most  light  there  the  true  quality  of  the  colour  so 
illuminated  will  be  most  visible,  and  where  there  is  most 
shadow  there  the  colour  will  be  most  affected  by  the 
colour  of  the  shadow.  Therefore,  O  painter,  be  mindful 
to  show  the  true  quality  of  the  colours  in  the  parts 
which  are  in  light.  (MS.  2038,  Bib.  Nat.  33  r.) 


*34  OF  ARRANGEMENT  OF  LIGHT 

HOW    ONE   OUGHT    TO    ARRANGE   THE    LIGHT    UPON 
FIGURES 

The  disposition  of  the  light  should  be  in  harmony 
with  the  natural  conditions  under  which  you  represent 
your  figure ;  that  is  if  you  are  representing  it  in  sun- 
light, make  the  shadows  dark  with  great  spaces  of  light, 
and  mark  the  shadows  of  all  the  surrounding  bodies  and 
their  shadows  upon  the  ground-  If  you  represent  it  in 
dull  weather,  make  only  a  slight  difference  between  the 
lights  and  the  shadows,  and  do  not  make  any  other 
shadow  at  the  feet.  If  you  represent  it  within  doors, 
make  a  strong  difference  between  the  lights  and  shadows 
and  show  the  shadow  on  the  ground. 

And  if  you  represent  a  window  covered  by  a  curtain 
and  the  wall  white  there  should  be  little  difference  be- 
tween the  lights  and  shadows.  If  it  is  lit  by  a  fire  you 
should  make  the  lights  ruddy  and  powerful  and  the 
shadows  dark  ;  and  where  the  shadows  strike  the  walls  or 
the  floor  should  be  sharply  defined,  and  the  farther  away 
they  extend  from  the  body  the  broader  and  larger  should 
they  become.  And  if  it  be  lit  in  part  by  the  fire  and 
in  part  by  the  atmosphere,  make  the  part  lit  by  the 
atmosphere  the  stronger,  and  let  that  lit  by  the  fire  be 
almost  as  red  as  fire  itself.  And  above  all  let  the  figures 
that  you  paint  have  sufficient  light  and  from  above,  that 
is  all  living  persons  whom  you  paint,  for  the  people  whom 
you  see  in  the  streets  are  all  lighted  from  above  ;  and  I 
would  have  you  know  that  you  have  no  acquaintance 
so  intimate  but  that  if  the  light  fell  on  him  from  below 

you  would  find  it  difficult  to  recognise  him. 

(MS.  2038,  Bib.  Nat.  33  r.) 


OF  LIGHT  AND  SHADE  235 

OF    THE   JUDGMENT  THAT   YOU    OUGHT   TO    PASS    UPON 
THE    WORK    OF    A    PAINTER 

First  you  should  consider  the  figures  whether  they 
have  the  relief  which  their  position  requires,  and  the 
light  that  illuminates  them3  so  that  the  shadows  may  not 
be  the  same  at  the  extremities  of  the  composition  as  in 
the  centre,  because  it  is  one  thing  for  a  figure  to  be 
surrounded  by  shadows,  and  another  for  it  to  have  the 
shadows  only  on  one  side.  Those  figures  are  surrounded 
by  shadows  which  are  towards  the  centre  of  the  com- 
position, because  they  are  shaded  by  the  dark  figures 
interposed  between  them  and  the  light ;  and  those  are 
shaded  on  one  side  only  which  are  interposed  between 
the  light  and  the  main  group,  for  where  they  do  not 
face  the  light  they  face  the  group,  and  there  they  repro- 
duce the  darkness  cast  by  this  group,  and  where  they 
do  not  face  the  group  they  face  the  brightness  of  the 
light,  and  there  they  reproduce  its  radiance. 

Secondly,  you  should  consider  whether  the  distribution 
or  arrangement  of  the  figures  is  devised  in  agreement 
with  the  conditions  you  desire  the  action  to  represent. 

Thirdly,  whether  the  figures  are  actively  engaged  on 
their  purpose.  (G  19  r.) 

OF  THE  LIGHTS  ON  THE  LOWER  EXTREMITIES  OF  BODIES 
PACKED  TIGHTLY  TOGETHER  SUCH  AS  MEN  IN 
BATTLE 

Of  men  and  horses  labouring  in  battle  the  different 
parts  should  be  darker  in  proportion  as  they  are  closer 
to  the  ground  on  which  they  are  supported  ;  and  this  is 


236  OF  LIGHT  AND  SHADE 

proved  from  the  sides  of  wells,  which  become  darker  in 
proportion  to  their  depth,  this  being  due  to  the  fact  that 
the  lowest  part  of  the  well  sees  and  is  seen  by  a  lesser 
amount  of  the  luminous  atmosphere  than  any  other  part 
of  it.  And  the  pavements  when  they  are  the  same 
colour  as  the  legs  of  the  men  and  horses  will  always 
seem  in  higher  light  within  equal  angles  than  will  these 
same  legs.  (G  15  r.) 

OF   SITUATION 

Take  careful  note  of  the  situation  of  your  figures,  for 
you  will  have  the  light  and  shade  different  if  the  object 
is  in  a  dark  place  with  a  particular  light,  and  if  it  is  in  a 
bright  place  with  the  direct  light  of  the  sun,  and  different 
also  if  it  is  in  a  dark  place  with  the  diffused  light  of 
evening  or  in  dull  weather,  and  if  it  is  in  the  diffused 

light  of  the  atmosphere  lit  by  the  sun. 

(<?  33  *) 

OF    SHADOWS   AND    LIGHTS 

You,  who  reproduce  the  works  of  nature,  behold  the 
dimensions,  the  degrees  of  intensity,  and  the  forms  of 
the  lights  and  shadows  of  each  muscle,  and  observe  in 
the  lengths  of  their  figures  towards  which  muscle  they 

are  directed  by  the  axis  of  their  central  lines* 

(£  3  r.) 

IV.  LANDSCAPE 

OF    CITIES   OR    OTHER    BUILDINGS    SEEN    IN    THE    EVENING 
OR   MORNING    IN   THE    MIST 

Buildings  seen  at  a  great  distance  in  the  evening  or 
morning  through  mist  or  heavy  atmosphere,  have  only 


OF  MORNING  LIGHT  237 

such  portions  in  light  as  are  illuminated  by  the  sun 
which  is  then  near  the  horizon,  and  the  parts  of  these 
buildings  which  are  not  exposed  to  the  sun  remain  almost 
the  same  dim  neutral  colour  as  the  mist.  (E  3  *.) 

OF   TREES    IN    THE    SOUTH 

When  the  sun  is  in  the  east,  the  trees  in  the  south 
and  north  are  almost  as  much  in  light  as  in  shadow,  but 
the  total  amount  in  light  is  greater  in  proportion  as  they 
are  more  to  the  west,  and  the  total  amount  in  shadow 
is  greater  in  proportion  as  they  are  more  to  the  east. 

OF    MEADOWS 

When  the  sun  is  in  the  east,  the  grasses  in  the 
meadows  and  the  other  small  plants  are  of  a  most 
brilliant  green,  because  they  are  transparent  to  the  sun. 
This  does  not  happen  with  the  meadows  in  the  west, 
and  in  those  in  the  south  and  north,  the  grasses  are  of  a 
moderate  brilliance  in  their  green.  (G  20  *.) 

THE   ASPECTS   OF    LANDSCAPES 

When  the  sun  is  in  the  east,  all  the  parts  of  trees 
which  are  illuminated  by  it  are  of  a  most  brilliant  green ; 
and  this  is  due  to  the  fact  that  the  leaves  illuminated  by 
the  sun  within  half  our  hemisphere,  namely  the  eastern 
half,  are  transparent ;  while  within  the  western  semicircle 
the  verdure  has  a  sombre  hue  and  the  air  is  damp  and 
heavy,  of  the  colour  of  dark  ashes,  so  that  it  is  not 
transparent  like  that  in  the  east,  which  is  refulgent,  and 
the  more  so  as  it  is  more  full  of  moisture. 


238  OF  MORNING  LIGHT 

The  shadows  of  the  trees  in  the  east  cover  a  large 
part  of  the  tree,  and  they  are  darker  in  proportion  as  the 
trees  are  thicker  with  leaves.  (G  21  r.) 


OF   TREES    IN    THE    EAST 

When  the  sun  is  in  the  east,  the  trees  seen  towards 
the  east  will  have  the  light  surrounding  them  all  around 
their  shadows,  except  towards  the  earth,  unless  the  tree 
has  been  pruned  in  the  previous  year  ;  and  the  trees  in 
the  south  and  in  the  north  will  be  half  in  shadow  and 
half  in  light,  and  more  or  less  in  shadow  or  in  light 
according  as  they  are  more  or  less  to  the  east  or  to 
the  west. 

The  fact  of  the  eye  being  high  or  low  causes  a 
variation  in  the  shadows  and  lights  of  trees,  for  when 
the  eye  is  above,  it  sees  the  trees  with  very  little  shadow, 
and  when  below  with  a  great  deal  of  shadow. 

The  different  shades  of  green  of  plants  are  as  varied 
as  are  their  species.  (G  21  v.) 

OF   THE    SHADOWS   OF   TREES 

When  the  sun  is  in  the  east,  the  trees  towards  the 
west  will  appear  to  the  eye  with  very  little  relief  and 
of  almost  imperceptible  gradation,  on  account  of  the 
atmosphere  which  lies  very  thick  between  the  eye  and 
these  trees,  according  to  the  seventh  [part]  of  this 
[treatise] ;  and  they  are  deprived  of  shadow,  for  although 
a  shadow  exists  in  each  part  of  the  ramification,  it  so 
happens  that  the  images  of  shadow  and  light  which  come 
to  the  eye  are  confused  and  blended  together,  and  cannot 


OF  MORNING  LIGHT  239 

be  discerned  through  the  smallness  of  their  size.  And 
the  highest  lights  are  in  the  centre  of  the  trees  and 
the  shadows  are  towards  their  extremities,  and  their 
separation  is  marked  by  the  shadows  in  the  spaces 
between  these  trees  when  the  forests  are  dense  with 
trees ;  and  in  those  which  are  more  scattered  the  con- 
tours are  but  little  seen.  (G  22  r.) 

OF   TREES    IN    THE    EAST 

When  the  sun  is  in  the  east,  the  trees  in  that  quarter 
are  dark  towards  the  centre  and  their  edges  are  in  light. 

OF  THE    SMOKE    OF   CITIES 

The  smoke  is  seen  better  and  more  distinctly  in  the 
eastern  than  in  the  western  quarter  when  the  sun  is 
in  the  east.  This  is  due  to  two  causes;  the  first  is 
that  the  sun  shines  through  the  particles  of  this  smoke 
with  its  rays*  and  lightens  these  up  and  renders  them 
visible ;  the  second  is  that  the  roofs  of  the  houses  seen 
in  the  east  at  this  hour  are  in  shadow,  because  their 
slope  prevents  them  from  being  lighted  by  the  sun ;  the 
same  happens  with  the  dust,  and  both  the  one  and  the 
other  are  more  charged  with  light  in  proportion  as  they 
are  thicker,  and  they  are  thickest  towards  the  middle. 

(G  22  *.) 

OF    SMOKE    AND    OUST 

When  the  sun  is  in  the  east,  the  smoke  of  cities  will 
not  be  visible  in  the  west,  because  it  is  neither  seen 
penetrated  by  the  solar  rays  nor  against  a  daric  back- 
ground, since  the  roofs  of  the  houses  turn  the  same  side 


*4o  OF  COLOUR  IN  LANDSCAPE 

to  the  eye  that  they  show  to  the  sun,  and  against  this 
bright  background  the  smoke  will  be  scarcely  visible. 
But  dust  when  seen  under  the  same  conditions  will 
appear  darker  than  smoke,  because  it  is  thicker  in 
substance  than  smoke  which  is  made  up  of  vapour. 

(G  23  r.) 

OF    SHADOWS    AND    LIGHTS    ON    CITIES 

When  the  sun  is  in  the  east  and  the  eye  is  looking 
down  upon  a  city  from  above,  the  eye  will  see  the 
southern  part  of  the  city,  with  its  roofs  half  in  shadow 
and  half  in  light,  and  so  also  with  the  northern  part ; 
but  the  eastern  part  will  be  all  in  shadow  and  the 
western  part  all  in  light.  (G  19  v.) 

OF    PAINTING 

Of  the  various  colours  other  than  blue,  that  which 
at  a  great  distance  will  resemble  blue  most  closely,  will 
be  that  which  is  nearest  to  black,  and  so  conversely 
the  colour  which  least  resembles  black  will  be  the  one 
which  at  a  great  distance  will  most  retain  its  natural 
colour. 

Accordingly  the  green  in  landscapes  will  become  more 
changed  into  blue  than  will  the  yellow  or  the  whhe,  and 
so  conversely  the  yellow  and  the  white  will  undergo  less 
change  than  the  green,  and  the  red  still  less. 

(*  75  *.) 

OF   LANDSCAPES 

The  dark  colours  of  the  shadows  of  mountains  at  a 
great  distance  take  a  more  beautiful  and  purer  blue  than 
do  those  parts  which  are  in  light,  and  from  this  it  follows 


OF  LANDSCAPE  IN  WINTER  241 

that  when  the  rock  of  the  mountains  is  reddish,  the 
parts  of  it  which  are  in  light  are  fawn-coloured,  and  the 
more  brightly  it  is  illuminated  the  more  closely  will  it 
retain  its  natural  colour.  (7  48  r.) 

PAINTING 

The  landscapes  which  occur  in  representations  of 
winte^  should  not  show  the  mountains  blue  as  one  sees 
them  in  summer,  and  this  is  proved  by  the  fourth  part  of 
this  [chapter],  where  it  is  stated  that  of  the  mountains 
seen  at  a  great  distance  that  will  seem  a  deeper  blue  in 
colour  which  is  in  itself  darker  ;  for  when  the  trees  are 
stripped  of  their  leaves  they  look  grey  in  colour,  and 
when  they  are  with  their  leaves  they  are  green,  and  in 
proportion  as  the  green  is  darker  than  the  grey,  the  green 
will  appear  a  more  intense  blue  than  the  grey ;  and  by 
the  fifth  part  of  this  [chapter],  the  shadows  of  trees 
which  are  clad  with  leaves  are  as  much  darker  than  the 
shadows  pf  those  trees  which  are  stripped  of  leaves  as  the 
trees  dad  with  leaves  are  denser  than  those  without 
leaves ;  and  thus  we  have  established  our  proposition. 

The  definition  of  the  blue  colour  of  the  atmosphere 
supplies  the  reason  why  landscapes  are  a  deeper  shade  of 
blue  in  summer  than  in  winter.  (E  19  r.) 

OF   HOW   TO    PAINT    WIND 

In  representing  wind,  in  addition  to  showing  the 
bending  of  the 'boughs  and  the  inverting  of  their  leaves 
at  the  approach  of  the  wind,  you  should  represent  the 

clouds  of  fine  dust  mingled  with  the  troubled  air. 

(E  6  v.) 


242  OF  TREES 

OF   HOW   TO    DEPICT  A   WILD    LANDSCAPE 

Those  trees  and  shrubs  which  are  more  split  up  into 
a  quantity  of  thin  branches  ought  to  have  less  density  of 
shadow.  The  tree  and  the  shrubs  which  have  larger  leaves 
cast  a  greater  shadow.  (MS.  2038,  B&.  Nat.  31  *.) 

OF   TREES   AND   THEIR   LIGHT 

The  true  method  of  practice  in  representing  country 
scenes,  or  I  should  say  landscapes  with  their  trees,  is  to 
choose  them  when  the  sun  in  the  sky  is  hidden,  so  that 
the  fields  receive  a  diffused  light  and  not  the  direct  light 
of  the  sun,  for  this  makes  the  shadows  sharply  defined 
and  very  different  from  the  lights.  (G  n  v.) 

OF  TREES 

What  outlines  do  trees  show  at  a  distance  against  the 
atmosphere  which  serves  as  their  background?  The 
outlines  of  the  structure  of  trees  against  the  luminous 
atmosphere  as  they  are  more  remote  approach  the 
spherical  more  closely  in  their  shape,  and  as  they  are 
nearer  so  they  display  a  greater  divergence  from  the 
spherical  form.  So  the  first  tree  a l  as  being  near  to  the 
eye  displays  the  true  form  of  its  ramification,  but  this  is 
somewhat  less  visible  in  £,  and  disappears  altogether  in  f , 
where  not  only  can  none  of  the  branches  of  the  tree  be 
seen,  but  the  whole  tree  can  only  be  recognised  with 
great  difficulty. 

Every  object  in  shadow, — be  it  of  whatever  shape  you 
please, — will  at  a  great  distance  appear  to  be  spherical ; 
and  this  occurs  because  if  an  object  be  rectangular,  then  at 

1  MS.  contains  a  dutch  of  a  row  of  trees  seen  in  perspective. 


PLATE  10 


GROVE  OF  SILVER  BIRCHES 


Fait  f>.  24.Z 


OF  TREES  *43 

a  very  short  distance  its  angles  become  invisible,  and  a 
little  farther  off  it  loses  more  than  it  retains  of  the  lesser 
sides,  and  so  before  losing  the  whole  it  loses  the  parts,  since 
these  are  less  than  the  whole.  So  with  a  man  when  so 
situated  you  lose  sight  of  the  legs,  arms,  and  head,  before 
the  trunk,  and  then  the  extremities  of  the  length  become 
lost  before  those  of  the  breadth,  and  when  these  have 
become  equal  there  would  be  a  square1  if  the  angles 
remained,  but  as  they  are  lost  there  is  a  sphere.  (G  26  r.) 

HOW  ONE    SHOULD    REPRESENT   LANDSCAPES 

Landscapes  ought  to  be  represented  so  that  the  trees 
are  half  in  light  and  half  in  shadow  ;  but  it  is  better  to 
make  them  when  the  sun  is  covered  in  clouds,  for  titan 
the  trees  are  lighted  up  by  the  general  light  of  the  sky 
and  the  general  shadow  of  the  earth ;  and  these  are  so 
much  darker  in  their  parts  in  proportion  as  these  parts 
are  nearer  to  the  middle  of  the  tree  and  to  the  earth. 

(G  19  *.) 

OF   TREES   WHICH    ARE   ILLUMINATED    BY   THE   SUN,  OR 
BY    THE   ATMOSPHERE 

The  trees  illuminated  by  the  sun  and  by  the  atmo- 
sphere which  have  leaves  of  a  dark  colour  will  be  illumi- 
nated on  one  side  by  the  atmosphere  alone,  and  in 
consequence  of  being  thus  illuminated  will  share  its 
blueness ;  and  on  the  opposite  side  they  will  be  illuminated 
both  by  the  atmosphere  and  the  sun,  and  the  part  which 
the  eye  sees  illuminated  by  the  sun  will  be  resplendent. 

(G  28  r.) 

1  I  have  followed  Dr.  Richter  in  interpreting  a  tiny  figure  in  the  text  as  a 
square,  M.  Ravaisson-Mollien  reads  it  as  <d.' 


244  OF  TREES 

OF  THE    SHADOWS   OF    VERDURE 

The  shadows  of  verdure  always  approximate  to  blue, 
and  so  it  is  with  every  shadow  of  every  other  thing,  and 
they  tend  to  this  colour  more  entirely  when  they  are 
further  distant  from  the  eye,  and  less  in  proportion  as 
they  are  nearer. 

The  leaves  which  reflect  the  blue  of  the  atmosphere 
always  present  themselves  edgewise  to  the  eye. 

OF   THE    ILLUMINATED    PARTS    OF   VERDURE   AND    OF 
MOUNTAINS 

The  part  illuminated  will  show  more  of  its  natural 
colour  at  «  great  distance  when  it  is  illuminated  by  the 
most  powerful  light.  (G  15  r.) 

In  the  representation  of  trees  in  leaf  be  careful  not  to 
repeat  the  same  colour  too  often  for  a  tree  which  has 
another  tree  of  the  same  colour  as  its  background,  but 
vary  it  by  making  the  foliage  lighter  or  darker  or  of  a 
more  vivid  green.  (G  27  *.) 

The  extremities  of  the  branches  of  trees  if  not  dragged 
down  by  the  weight  of  their  fruit  turn  towards  the  sky 
as  much  as  possible. 

The  upper  sides  of  their  leaves  are  turned  towards 
the  sky  in  order  to  receive  nourishment  from  the  dew 
that  falls  by  night. 

The  sun  gives  spirit  and  life  to  plants  and  the  earth 
nourishes  them  with  moisture.  In  this  connection  I 
once  made  the  experiment  of  leaving  only  one  small 
root  on  a  gourd  and  keeping  this  nourished  with  water ; 


OF  PLANTS  245 

and  the  gourd  brought  to  perfection  all  the  fruits  that 
it  could  produce,  which  were  about  sixty  gourds  of  the 
long  species  ;  and  I  set  myself  diligently  to  consider  the 
source  of  its  life,  and  I  perceived  that  it  was  the  dew  of 
the  night  which  steeped  it  abundantly  with  its  moisture 
through  the  joints  of  its  great  leaves,  and  thereby 
nourished  the  tree  and  its  offspring,  or  rather  the  seeds 
which  were  to  produce  its  offspring. 

The  rule  as  to  the  leaves  produced  on  the  last  of  the 
year's  branches  is  that  on  twin  branches  they  will  grow 
in  a  contrary  direction,  that  is,  that  the  leaves  in  their 
earliest  growth  turn  themselves  round  towards  the  branch 
in  such  a  way  that  the  sixth  leaf  above  grows  over  the 
sixth  leaf  below ;  and  the  manner  of  their  turning  is 
that  if  one  turns  towards  its  fellow  on  the  right,  the 
other  turns  to  the  left. 

The  leaf  serves  as  a  breast  to  nourish  the  branch  or 
fruit  which  grows  in  the  succeeding  year.  (G  31  * .) 

OF   THE    PLANTS   OF  THE   FIELDS 

Of  the  plants  which  take  their  shadows  from  the  trees 
which  grow  among  them,  those  which  are  in  front  of  the 
shadow  have  their  stalks  lighted  up  against  a  back- 
gijpund  of  shadow,  and  the  plants  which  are  in  shadow 
teve  their  stalks  dark  against  a  light  background,  that 
is  against  a  background  which  is  beyond  the  shadow. 

OF   THE   TREES   WHICH   ARE   BETWEEN    THE    EYE  AND 
THE    LIGHT 

Of  the  trees  which  are  between  the  eye  and  the  light, 
the  part  in  front  will  be  bright,  and  this  brightness  will 


246  OF  FOLIAGE 

be  diversified  by  the  ramification  of  the  transparent 
leaves — as  seen  from  the  tinder  side, — with  the  shining 
leaves  seen  from  the  right  side,  and  in  the  background, 
below  and  behind,  the  verdure  will  be  dark,  because  it  is 
cast  in  shadow  by  the  front  part  of  the  said  tree ;  and 

this  occurs  in  trees  which  are  higher  than  the  eye. 

(G  9  *.) 

OF  DARK    LEAVES  IN    FRONT  OF   TRANSPARENT   ONES 

When  the  leaves  are  interposed  between  the  light  and 
the  eye,  then  that  which  is  nearest  to  the  eye  will  be  the 
darkest,  and  that  farthest  away  will  be  the  lightest,  if 
they  are  not  seen  against  the  atmosphere ;  and  this 
happens  with  leaves  which  are  beyond  the  centre  of  the 
tree,  that  is  in  the  direction  of  the  light.  (G  10  ?.) 

OF  THE   LIGHTS   ON    DARK    LEAVES 

The  lights  on  such  leaves  as  are  darkest  in  colour  will 
most  closely  resemble  the  colour  of  the  atmosphere  re- 
flected in  them ;  and  this  is  due  to  the  fact  that  "the 
brightness  of  the  illuminated  part  mingling  with  the 
darkness  forms  of  itself  a  blue  colour ;  and  this  bright- 
ness proceeds  from  the  blue  of  the  atmosphere  which  is 
reflected  in  the  smooth  surface  of  these  leaves,  thereby 
adding  to  the  blueness  which  this  light  usually  produces 
when  it  falls  upon  dark  objects. 

OF   THE   LIGHTS  ON    LEAVES    OF   YELLOWISH    GREEN 

But  leaves  of  yellowish  green  do  not  when  they  reflect 
the  atmosphere  create  a  reflection  which  verges  on  blue  ; 
for  every  object  when  seen  in  a  mirror  takes  in  part  the 


OF  FOLIAGE  247 

colour  of  this  mirror ;  therefore  the  blue  of  the  atmo- 
sphere reflected  in  the  yellow  of  the  leaf  appears  green, 
because  blue  and  yellow  mixed  together  form  a  most 
brilliant  green,  and  therefore  the  lustre  on  light  leaves 
which  are  yellowish  in  colour  will  be  a  greenish  yellow. 

(G  28  v.) 

The  shadows  of  plants  are  never  black,  for  where  the 
atmosphere  penetrates  there  cannot  be  utter  darkness. 

(G  8  r.) 

The  leaf  always  turns  its  upper  side  towards  the  sky 
so  that  it  may  be  better  able  to  receive  over  its  whole 
surface  the  dew  which  drops  down  with  the  slow  move- 
ment of  the  atmosphere ;  and  these  leaves  are  arranged  on 
the  pknts  in  such  a  way  that  one  covers  another  as  little 
as  possible,  but  they  lie  alternately  one  above  the  other 
as  is  seen  with  the  ivy  which  covers  the  walls.  And  this 
alternation  serves  two  ends  ;  that  is  in  order  to  leave  spaces 
so  that  the  air  and  the  sun  may  penetrate  between  them, 
— and  the  second  purpose  of  it  is  that  the  drops  which 
fall  from  the  first  leaf  may  fall  on  to  the  fourth,  or  on 
to  the  sixth  in  the  case  of  other  trees.  (G  27  *,) 

The  shadows  on  transparent  leaves  seen  from  beneath 
are  the  same  as  those  on  the  right  side  of  the  leaf,  for 
the  shadow  is  visible  in  transparence  on  the  under  side" 
as  well  as  the  part  in  light ;  but  the  lustre  can  never  be 
seen  in  transparence.  (G  3  *.) 

Although  leaves  with  a  smooth  surface  are  for  the 
most  part  of  the  same  colour  on  the  right  side- as  on  the 
reverse,  it  so  happens  that  the  side  exposed  to  the  atmo- 


248  OF  FOLIAGE 

sphere  partakes  of  the  colour  of  the  atmosphere,  and 
seems  to  partake  of  its  colour  more  closely  in  proportion 
as  the  eye  is  nearer  to  it  and  sees  it  more  foreshortened. 
And  the  shadows  will  invariably  appear  darker  on  the 
right  side  than  on  the  reverse  through  the  contrast 
caused  by  the  high  lights  appearing  against  the  shadow. 

The  under  side  of  the  leaf,  although  its  colour  in  itself 
may  be  the  same  as  that  of  the  right  side,  appears 
more  beautiful  in  colour;  and  this  colour  is  a  green 
verging  upon  yellow  ;  and  this  occurs  when  this  leaf  is 
interposed  between  the  eye  and  the  light  which  illumines 
it  from  the  opposite  side.  Its  shadows  also  are  in  the 
same  positions  as  were  those  on  the  opposite  side. 

Therefore,  O  Painter,  when  you  make  trees  near  at 
hand  remember  that  when  your  eye  is  somewhat  below 
the  level  of  the  tree  you  will  be  able  to  see  its  leaves 
some  on  the  right  side  and  some  on  the  reverse ;  and 
the  right  sides  will  be  a  deeper  blue  as  they  are  seen  more 
foreshortened,  and  the  same  leaf  will  sometimes  show 
part  of  the  right  side  and  part  of  the  reverse,  and  conse- 
quently you  must  make  it  of  two  colours. 

(G  3  r.  andz  v.) 

When  there  is  one  belt  of  green  behind  another,  the 
High  lights  on  the  leaves  and  their  transparent  lights 
show  more  strongly  than  those  which  are  against  the 
brightness  of  the  atmosphere. 

And  if  the  sun  illumines  the  leaves  without  these 
coining  between  it  and  the  eye,  and  without  the  eye 
facing  the  sun,  then  the  high  lights  and  the  transparent 
lights  of  the  leaves  are  extremely  powerful. 


STUDY  OF  TREE 


Fact  p.  248 


OF  DISTANT  OBJECTS  249 

It  is  very  useful  to  make  some  of  the  lower  branches, 
and  these  should  be  dark,  and  should  serve  as  a  back- 
ground for  the  illuminated  belts  of  green  which  are  at 
some  little  distance  from  the  first. 

Of  the  darker  greens  seen  from  below,  that  part 
is  darkest  which  is  nearest  to  the  eye,  that  is  to  say  which 
is  farthest  from  the  luminous  atmosphere.  (G  4  r.) 

Never  represent  leaves  as  though  transparent  in  the 
sun,  because  they  are  always  indistinct ;  and  this  comes 
about  because  over  the  transparency  of  one  leaf  there 
will  be  imprinted  the  shadow  of  another  leaf  which  is 
above  it ;  and  this  shadow  has  definite  outlines  and  a 
fixed  density.  And  sometimes  it  is  the  half  or  third  part 
of  the  leaf  which  is  in  the  shadow,  and  consequently  the 
structure  of  such  a  leaf  is  indistinct,  and  the  imitation  of 
it  is  to  be  avoided. 

The  upper  branches  of  the  spreading  boughs  of  trees 
keep  nearer  to  the  parent  bough  than  do  those  below. 

That  leaf  is  less  transparent  which  takes  the  light  at  a 
more  acute  angle.  (G  4  r.) 

OF   THE   WAY    TO   PRESENT  DISTANT   OBJECTS  IN  PAINTING 

It  is  evident  that  the  part  of  the  atmosphere  which 
lies  nearest  the  level  ground  is  denser  than  the  rest, 
and  that  the  higher  it  rises  the  lighter  and  more 
transparent  it  becomes.- 

In  the  case  of  large  and  lofty  objects  which  are  some 
distance  away  from  you,  their  lower  parts  will  not  be 
much  seen,  because  the  line  by  which  you  should  see 


250  OF  THE  ATMOSPHERE 

them  passes  through  the  thickest  and  densest  portion  of 
the  atmosphere.  But  the  summits  of  these  heights  are 
seen  along  a  line  which,  although  when  starting  from 
your  eye  it  is  produced  through  the  denser  atmo- 
sphere, yet  since  it  ends  at  the  highest  summit  of  the 
object  seen,  concludes  its  course  in  an  atmosphere  far 
more  rarefied  than  that  of  its  base.  And  consequently 
the  farther  away  from  you  this  line  extends  from  point 
to  point  the  greater  is  the  change  in  the  finer  quality  of 
the  atmosphere. 

Do  you,  therefore,  O  Painter,  when  you  represent 
mountains,  see  that  from  hill  to  hill  the  bases  are  always 
paler  than  the  summits,  and  the  farther  away  you  make 
them  one  from  another  let  the  bases  be  paler  in  propor- 
tion, and  the  loftier  they  are,  the  more  they  should 
reveal  their  true  shape  and  colour. 

(MS.  2038,  Jtf.  Nat.  1 8  r.) 

HOW  THE  ATMOSPHERE  SHOULD  BE  REPRESENTED  AS 
PALER  IN  PROPORTION  AS  YOU  SHOW  IT  EX- 
TENDING LOWER 

Since  the  atmosphere  is  dense  near  the  ground,  and 
the  higher  it  is  the  finer  it  becomes,  therefore  when  the 
sun  is  in  the  east  and  you  look  towards  the  west, 
taking  in  a  part  to  the  north  and  to  the  south,  you  will 
see  that  this  dense  air  receives  more  light  from  the  sun 
than  the  finer  air,  because  the  rays  encounter  more 
resistance.  And  if  your  view  of  the  horizon  is  bounded 
by  a  low  plain,  that  farthest  region  of  the  sky  will  be 
seen  through  that  thicker  whiter  atmosphere,  and  this 
will  destroy  the  truth  of  the  colour  as  seen  through  such  a 


OF  THE  ATMOSPHERE  ayi 

medium  j  and  the  sky  will  seem  whiter  there  than  it 
does  overhead,  where  the  line  of  vision  traverses  a  lesser 
space  of  atmosphere  charged  with  thick  vapours.  But  if 
you  look  towards  the  east  the  atmosphere  will  appear 
darker  in  proportion  as  it  is  lower,  for  in  this  lower 
atmosphere  the  luminous  rays  pass  less  freely. 

(MS.  2038,  Bib.  Nat.  18  *.) 


250  OF  THE  ATMOSPHERE 

them  passes  through  the  thickest  and  densest  portion  of 
the  atmosphere.  But  the  summits  of  these  heights  are 
seen  along  a  line  which,  although  when  starting  from 
your  eye  it  is  produced  through  the  denser  atmo- 
sphere, yet  since  it  ends  at  the  highest  summit  of  the 
object  seen,  concludes  its  course  in  an  atmosphere  far 
more  rarefied  than  that  of  its  base.  And  consequently 
the  farther  away  from  you  this  line  extends  from  point 
to  point  the  greater  is  the  change  in  the  finer  quality  of 
the  atmosphere. 

Do  you,  therefore,  O  Painter,  when  you  represent 
mountains,  see  that  from  hill  to  hill  the  bases  are  always 
paler  than  the  summits,  and  the  farther  away  you  make 
them  one  from  another  let  the  bases  be  paler  in  propor- 
tion, and  the  loftier  they  are,  the  more  they  should 
reveal  their  true  shape  and  colour. 

(MS.  2038,  £#.  Nat.  1 8  r.) 

HOW  THE  ATMOSPHERE  SHOULD  BE  REPRESENTED  AS 
PALER  IN  PROPORTION  AS  YOU  SHOW  IT  EX- 
TENDING LOWER 

Since  the  atmosphere  is  dense  near  the  ground,  and 
the  higher  it  is  the  finer  it  becomes,  therefore  when  the 
sun  is  in  the  east  and  you  look  towards  the  west, 
taking  in  a  part  to  the  north  and  to  the  south,  you  will 
see  that  this  dense  air  receives  more  light  from  the  sun 
than  the  finer  air,  because  the  rays  encounter  more 
resistance.  And  if  your  view  of  the  horizon  is  bounded 
by  a  low  plain,  that  farthest  region  of  the  sky  will  be 
seen  through  that  thicker  whiter  atmosphere,  and  this 
will  destroy  the  truth  of  the  colour  as  seen  through  such  a 


OF  THE  ATMOSPHERE  251 

medium ;  and  the  sky  will  seem  whiter  there  than  it 
does  overhead,  where  the  line  of  vision  traverses  a  lesser 
space  of  atmosphere  charged  with  thick  vapours.  But  if 
you  look  towards  the  east  the  atmosphere  will  appear 
darker  in  proportion  as  it  is  lower,  for  in  this  lower 
atmosphere  the  luminous  rays  pass  less  freely. 

(MS.  2038,  Bib.  Nat.  18  v.) 


BOOK    IV 
FANTASY 

FABLES 

THE  unhappy  willow  on  finding  herself  unable  to  enjoy 
the  pleasure  of  seeing  her  slender  boughs  attain  to  such 
a  height  as  she  desired,  or  even  point  towards  the  sky, 
because  she  was  continually  being  maimed  and  lopped 
and  spoiled  for  the  sake  of  the  vine  or  any  other  tree 
which    happened    to   be    near,   summoned   up   all   her 
faculties  and  by  this  means  opened  wide  the  portals  of 
her  imagination,  remaining  in  continual  meditation,  and 
seeking  in  the  world  of  plants  for  one  wherewith  to  ally 
herself  which  could  not  need  the  help  of  her  branches. 
So  continuing  for  a  time  with  her  imagination  at  work, 
the  thought  of  the  gourd  suddenly  presented  itself  to  her 
mind,  and  all  her  branches  quivered  in  her  intense  joy, 
for  it  seemed  to  her  that  she  had  found  the  right  com- 
panion for  the  purpose  she  desired,  because  the  gourd  is 
by  nature  more  fitted  to  bind  others  than  to  be  bound 
herself.     After  coming  to  this  conclusion  she  lifted  up 
her  branches  towards  the  sky  and  waited,  on  the  look- 
out for  some  friendly  bird  to  serve  as  the  intermediary 
of  her  desire.     Among  the  rest  she  descried  the  magpie 
near  to  her  and  said  to  him,  *O  gentle  bird,  by  the 
refuge  you  have  lately  found  among  my  branches  at 


252 


FABLES  253 

dawn,  when  the  hungry,  cruel,  and  rapacious  falcon  has 
wished  to  devour  you, — by  that  rest  you  have  often  found 
in  me  when  your  wings  craved  rest, — by  those  delights 
you  have  enjoyed  among  my  branches  in  amorous 
dalliance  with  your  companions, — I  entreat  you  to  go  and 
seek  out  the  gourd  and  obtain  from  her  some  of  her 
seeds,  telling  her  that  I  will  care  for  whatever  is  born 
from  them  as  though  they  were  my  own  offspring,  and  in 
like  manner  use  all  such  words  as  may  incline  her  to  the 
like  purpose,  though  to  you  who  are  a  master  of  language 
there  is  no  need  for  me  to  give  instruction.  If  you  will 
do  this  I  am  content  to  let  your  nest  be  in  the  fork  of 
my  boughs  together  with  all  your  family  without  pay- 
ment of  any  rent.'  So  the  magpie  after  stipulating  with 
the  willow  for  certain  further  conditions,  the  most 
important  being  that  she  should  never  admit  upon  her 
boughs  any  snake  or  polecat,  cocked  his  tail  and  lowered 
his  head,  and  casting  himself  loose  from  the  bough  let 
himself  float  on  his  wings  ;  and  beating  about  with  these 
in  the  fleeting  air,  seeking  hither  and  thither,  and  guid- 
ing himself  by  using  his  tail  as  a  rudder,  he  came  to  a 
gourd,  and  after  courteously  saluting  her  obtained  by 
a  few  polite  words  the  seeds  for  which  he  sought.  On 
taking  these  back  to  the  willow  he  was  welcomed  with 
joyful  looks  ;  and  then  scraping  away  with  his  foot  some 
of  the  earth  near  the  willow  he  planted  the  grains  with 
his  beak  round  about  her  in  a  circle. 

These  soon  began  to  grow,  and  as  the  branches  increased 
and  opened  out  they  began  to  cover  all  the  branches  of 
the  willow,  and  their  great  leaves  shut  away  from  it  the 
beauty  of  the  sun  and  the  sky.  And  all  this  evil  not 


354  FABLES 

sufficing,  the  gourds  next  began  to  drag  down  to  the 
ground  in  their  rude  grip  the  tops  of  the  slender  boughs, 
twisting  and  distorting  them  in  strange  shapes*  Then 
the  willow  after  shaking  and  tossing  herself  to  no 
purpose  to  make  the  gourds  loose  their  hold,  and  vainly 
for  days  cherishing  such  idle  hopes,  since  the  grasp  of 
the  gourds  was  so  sure  and  firm  as  to  forbid  such 
thoughts*  seeing  the  wind  pass  by,  forthwith  commended 
herself  to  it.  And  the  wind  blew  hard;  and  it  rent 
open  the  willow's  old  and  hollow  trunk,  tearing  it  in  two 
parts  right  down  to  its  roots ;  and  as  they  fell  asunder 
she  vainly  bewailed  her  fate,  confessing  herself  born  to 
no  good  end.  (C.  A.  67  r.  &) 

The  thrushes  rejoiced  greatly  on  seeing  a  man  catch 
the  owl  and  take  away  her  liberty  by  binding  her  feet 
with  strong  bonds.  But  then  by  means  of  birdlime  the 
owl  was  the  cause  of  the  thrushes  losing  not  only  their 
liberty  but  even  their  life.  This  is  said  of  those  states 
which  rejoice  at  seeing  their  rulers  lose  their  liberty,  in 
consequence  of  which  they  afterwards  lose  hope  of 
succour  and  remain  bound  in  the  power  of  their  enemy, 

losing  their  liberty  and  often  life. 

(C.A.  117  r.  *.) 

A  certain  patch  of  snow  finding  itself  clinging  to  the 
top  of  a  rock  which  was  perched  on  the  extreme  summit 
of  a  very  high  mountain,  being  left  to  its  own  imagina- 
tion began  to  reflect  and  to  say  within  itself: — *  Shall  I 
not  be  thought  haughty  and  proud  for  having  placed 
myself  in  so  exalted  a  spot, — being  indeed  a  mere  morsel 
of  snow  ?  And  for  allowing  that  such  a  vast  quantity  of 


FABLES  255 

snow  as  I  see  around  me  should  take  a  lower  place  than 
mine  ?  Truly  my  small  dimensions  do  not  deserve  this 
eminence ;  and  in  proof  of  my  insignificance  I  may 
rcadily-acquaint  myself  with  the  fate  which  but  yesterday 
befell  my  companions  who  in  a  few  hours  were  destroyed 
by  the  sun ;  and  this  came  about  from  their  having  placed 
themselves  in  a  loftier  station  than  was  required  of  them. 
I  will  flee  from  the  wrath  of  the  sun,  arid  abase  myself, 
and  find  a  place  that  befits  my  modest  size/ 

Then  throwing  itself  down,  it  began  to  descend,  rolling 
down  from  the  lofty  crags  on  to  the  other  snow ;  and 
the  more  it  sought  a  lowly  place,  the  more  it  increased 
in  bulk,  until  at  last  ending  its  course  upon  a  hill  it 
fbund  itself  almost  the  equal  in  size  of  the  hill  on  which 
it  rested,  and  it  was  the  last  of  the  snow  which  was 
melted  that  summer  by  the  sun. 

This  is  said  for  those  who  by  humbling  themselves 
are  exalted*  (C.  J.  67  ».  &) 

A  nut  which  found  itself  carried  by  a  crow  to  the  top 
of  a  lofty  campanile,  having  there  fallen  into  a  crevice 
and  so  escaped  its  deadly  beak,  besought  the  wall  by  that 
grace  which  God  had  bestowed  upon  it  in  causing .  it  to 
be  so  exalted  and  great,  and  so  rich  in  having  bells  of 
such  beauty  and  of  such  mellow  tone,  that  it  would  deign 
to  give  it  succour ;  that  insomuch  as  it  had  not  been 
able  to  drop  beneath  its  old  father's  green  branches  and 
lie  in  the  fallow  earth  covered  by  his  fallen  leaves  the 
\*all  would  not  abandon  it,  for  when  it  found  itself  in 
the  fierce  crow's  cruel  beak  it  had  vowed  that  if  it 
escaped  thence  it  would  end  its  days  in  a  small  hole.  At 


256  FABLES 

these  words  the  wall,  moved  with  compassion,  was  content 
to  give  it  shelter  in  the  spot  where  it  had  fallen.  And 
within  a  short  space  of  time  the  nut  began  to  burst  open 
and  to  put  its  roots  in  among  the  crevices  of  the  stones 
and  push  them  further  apart  and  throw  up  shoots  out 
of  its  hollow,  and  these  soon  rose  above  the  top  of 
the  building  ;  and  as  the  twisted  roots  grew  thicker  they 
commenced  to  tear  asunder  the  walls  and  force  the 
ancient  stones  out  of  their  old  positions.  Then  the  wall  too 
late  and  in  vain  deplored  the  cause  of  its  destruction, 
and  in  a  short  time  it  was  torn  asunder  and  a  great  part 
fell  in  ruin.  (C.  A.  67  r.  a.) 

The  privet  on  feeling  its  tender  branches,  laden  with 
new  fruit,  pricked  by  the  sharp  claws  and  beak  of  the 
troublesome  blackbird,  complained  to  her  with  pitiful  re- 
proaches beseeching  her  that  even  if  she  plucked  off  her 
delicious  fruit  she  would  at  any  rate  not  deprive  her  of  her 
leaves  which  protected  her  from  the  scorching  rays  of  the 
sun,  nor  with  her  sharp  claws  rend  away  and  strip  bare 
Jier  tender  bark.  But  to  this  the  blackbird  replied  with 
insolent  rebuke : — *  Silence !  rude  bramble  !  Know  you 
not  that  nature  has  made  you  to  produce  these  fruits  for 
my  sustenance  ?  Cannot  you 'see  that  you  came  into  the 
world  in  order  to  supply  me  with  this  very  food  ?  Know 
you  not,  vile  thing  that  you  are,  that  next  winter  you 
will  serve  as  sustenance  and  food  for  the  fire?'  To 
which  words  the  tree  listened  patiently  and  not  without 
tears. 

But  a  short  time  afterwards  the  blackbird  was  caught 
in  a  net,  and  some  boughs  were  cut  to  make  a  cage  in 


FABLES  257 

order  to  imprison  her,  and  among  the  rest  wore  some 
cut  from  the  tender  privet  to  serve  for  the  rods  of  the 
cage ;  and  these  on  perceiving  that  they  would  be  the 
cause  of  the  blackbird  being  deprived  of  liberty  rejoiced 
and  uttered  these  words : — c  We  are  here,  O  blackbird, 
not  yet  consumed  by  the  fire  as  you  said  ;  we  shall  see 

you  in  prison  before  you  see  us  burnt.* 

(C.  A,  67  r.  a.) 

Some  flames  had  already  lived  for  a  month  in  a  glass 
furnace  when  they  saw  a  candle  approaching  in  a  beautiful 
and  glittering  candlestick*  They  strove  with  great 
longing  to  reach  it;  and  one  of  their  number  left  its 
natural  course  and  wound  itself  into  an  unburnt  brand 
upon  which  it  fed,  and  then  passed  out  at  the  other  end 
by  a  small  cleft  to  the  candle  which  was  near,  and  flung 
itself  upon  it,  and  devouring  it  with  the  utmost  voracity 
and  greed  consumed  it  almost  entirely;  then  desirous 
of  prolonging  its  own  life,  it  strove  in  vain  to  return 
to  the  furnace  which  it  had  left,  but  was  forced  to 
droop  and  die  together  with  the  candle.  So  at  last  in 
lamentation  and  regret  it  was  changed  to  foul  smoke, 
leaving  all  its  sisters  in  glowing  and  abiding  life  and 
beauty.  (C.  A.  67  r.  *.) 

The  fig-tree  standing  near  to  the  elm,  and  perceiving 
that  her  boughs  bore  no  fruit  themselves,  yet  had  the 
hardihood  to  keep  away  the  sun  from  her  own,  unripe 
figs,  rebuked  her,  saying  :  c  O  Elm,  are  you  not  ashamed 
to  stand  in  front  of  me  ?  Only  wait  until  my  children 
are  fully  grown  and  you  will  see  where  you  will  find 
yourself/  But  when  her  offspring  were  ripe  a  regiment 


258  FABLES 

of  soldiers  came  to  the  place,  and  they  tore  off  the  branches 
of  the  fig-tree  in  order  to  take  her  figs  and  left  her  all 
stripped  and  broken. 

And  as  she  thus  stood  maimed  in  all  her  limbs  the 
elm  questioned  her  saying,  *  O  Fig-tree,  how  much  better 
was  it  to  be  without  children  than  to  be  brought  by 
them  to  so  wretched  a  pass  ?  *  (C.  A.  76  r,  4.) 

Once  upon  a  time  the  razor  emerging  from  the  handle 
which  served  it  as  a  sheath,  and  placing  itself  in  the  sun, 
saw  the  sun  reflected  on  its  surface,  at  which  thing  it 
took  great  pride,  and  turning  it  over  in  its  thoughts  it 
began  to  say  to  itself,  *  Am  I  to  go  back  any  more  to 
that  shop  from  which  I  have  just  now  come  away  ?  No 
surely !  It  cannot  be  the  pleasure  of  the  gods  that  such 
radiant  beauty  should  stoop  to  such  vile  uses !  What 
madness  would  that  be  which  should  induce  me  to  scrape 
the  kthered  chins  of  rustic  peasants  and  to  do  such 
menial  service !  Is  this  body  made  for  actions  such  as 
these  ?  Certainly  not  !  I  will  go  and  hide  myself  in 
some  retired  spot,  and  there  pass  my  life  in  tranquil  ease.9 

And  so  having  hid  itself  away  for  some  months,  re- 
turning one  day  to  the  light  and  coming  out  of  its  sheath 
it  perceived  that  it  had  acquired  the  appearance  of  a 
rusty  saw,  and  that  its  surface  no  longer  reflected  the 
sun's  radiance.  In  vain  with  useless  repentance  it  be- 
moaned its  irreparable  hurt,  saying  to  itself,  c  Ah  how 
much  better  would  it  have  been  to  have  let  the  barber 
use  that  lost  edge  of  mine  that  had  so  rare  a  keenness  ! 
Where  now  is  the  glittering  surface  ?  In  truth  the  foul 
insidious  rust  has  consumed  it  away ! ' 


FABLES  259 

The  same  thing  happens  with  minds  which  in  Keu  of 
exercise  give  themselves  up  to  sloth ;  for  these  like  the 
razor  lose  their  keen  edge,  and  the  rust  of  ignorance 
destroys  their  form.  (C.  A.  175  *.  a) 

A  stone  of  considerable  size,  only  recently  left  un- 
covered by  the  waters,  stood  in  a  certain  spot  perched  up 
at  the  edge  of  a  delightful  copse,  above  a  stony  road, 
surrounded  by  plants  bright  with  various  flowers  of  dif- 
ferent colours,  and  looked  upon  the  great  mass  of  stones 
which  lay  heaped  together  in  the  road  beneath.  And  she 
became  filled  with  longing  to  let  herself  down  there,  saying 
within  herself :  *  What  am  I  doing  here  with  these  plants  ? 
I  would  fain  dwell  in  the  company  of  my  sisters  yonder ' ; 
and  so  letting  herself  fall  she  ehded  her  rapid  course 
among  her  desired  companions.  But  when  she  had  been 
there  for  a  short  time  she  found  herself  in  continual 
distress  from  the  wheels  of  the  carts,  the  iron  hoofs  of 
the  horses  and  the  feet  of  the  passers-by.  One  rolled  her 
over,  another  trampled  upon  her;  and  at  times  she 
raised  herself  up  a  little  as  she  lay  covered  with  mud  or 
the  dung  of  some  animal,  and  vainly  looked  up  at  the 
place  from  whence  she  had  departed  as  a  place  of  soli- 
tude and  quiet  peace. 

So  it  happens  to  those  who  leaving  a  life  of  solitude  and 
contemplation  choose  to  come  and  dwell  in  cities  among 
people  full  of  infinite  wickedness.  (C.  A.  175  v.  a.) 

As  the  painted  butterfly  was  idly  wandering  and  flit- 
ting about  through  the  darkened  air  a  light  came  within 
sight,  and  thither  immediately  it  directed  its  course,  and 


«6o  FABLES 

flqw  round  about  it  in  varying  circles  marvelling  greatly 
at  such  radiant  beauty.  And  not  contented  merely  to 
behold,  it  began  to  treat  it  as*  was  its  custom  with  the 
fragrant  flowers,  and  directing  its  flight  it  approached 
with  bold  resolvp  close  to  the  light,  which  thereupon  con- 
sumed the  tips  of  its  wings  and  legs  and  the  other  extremi- 
ties ;,  and  then  dropping  down  at  the  foot  of  it, "it  began 
to  consider  with  astonishment  how  this  accident  had 
been  brought  about,  for  it  could  not  so  much  as  enter- 
tain a  thought  that  any  evil  or  hurt  could  possibly  come 
to  it  from  a  thing  so  beautiful ;  and  then  having  in  part 
regained  the  strength  which  it  had  lost,  it  took  another 
flight  and  passed  right  through  the  body  of  the  flame, 
and  in  an  instant  fell  down  burned  into  the  oil  which 
fed  the  flame,  preserving  only  so  much  life  as  sufficed 
it  to  reflect  upon  the  cause  of  its  destruction,  saying  to 
it,  '  O  accursed  light !  I  thought  that  in  you  I  had 
found  my  happiness !  Vainly  do  I  lament  my  mad 
desire,  and  by  my  ruin  I  have  come  to  know  your 
rapacious  and  destructive  nature/ 

To  which  the  light  replied, r  Thus  do  I  treat  whoever 
does  not  know  how  to  use  me  aright/ 

This  is  said  for  those  who  when  they  see  before  them 
these  carnal  and  worldly  delights,  hasten  towards  them 
like  the  butterfly,  without  ever  taking  thought  as  to  their 
nature,  which  they  know  after  long  usage  to  their 
shame  and  loss.  (C.  A.  z$j  r.  &) 

The  flint  on  being  struck  by  the  steel  marvelled 
greatly  and  said  to  it  in  a  stern  voice,  *  What  arrogance 
prompts  you  to  annoy  me  ?  Trouble  me  not,  for  you 


FABLES  261 

have  chosen  me  by  mistake  ;  I  have  never  done  harm 
to  any  one/  To  which  the  steel  made  answer,  c  If  you 
will  be  patient  you  will  see  what  a  marvellous  result  will 
issue  forth  from  you/  At  these  words  the  flint  was 
pacified  and  patiently  endured  its  martyrdom,  and  it  saw 
itself  give  birth  to  the  marvellous  element  of  fire  which 
by  its  potency  became  a  factor  in  innumerable  things. 

This  is  said  for  those  who  are  dismayed  at  the  outset  of 
their  studies,  and  then  set  out  to  gain  the  mastery  over 
themselves  and  in  patience  to  apply  themselves  con- 
tinuously to  these  studies,  from  which  one  sees  result 
things  marvellous  to  relate.  (C*  A.  257  r.  6.) 

The  water  on  finding  itself  in  the  proud  sea,  its  ele- 
ment, was  seized  with  a  desire  to  rise  above  the  air  ;  and 
aided  by  the  element  of  fire,  having  mounted  up  in  thin 
vapour,  it  seemed  almost  as  thin  as  the  air  itself;  and 
after  it  had  risen  to  a  great  height  it  came  to  where  the 
air  was  more  rarefied  and  colder,  and  there  it  was  aban- 
doned by  the  fire  ;  and  the  small  particles  being  pressed 
together  were  united  and  became  heavy  ;  and  dropping 
from  thence  its  pride  was  put  to  rout,  and  it  fell  from 
the  sky  and  was  then  drunk  up  by  -the  parched  earth, 
where  for  a  long  time  it  lay  imprisoned  and  did  penance 
for  its  sin.  ($.  K.  M,  a.  ^  r.) 

The  lily  planted  itself  down  upon  the  bank  of  the 
Ticino,  and  the  stream  carried  away  the  bank  and  with 
it  the  lily. 


The  oyster  being  thrown  out  with  other  fish  near  to 
the  sea  from  the  house  of  a  fisherman,  prayed  to  a  rat  to 


*62  FABLES 

take  him  to  the  sea :  the  rat  who  was  intending  to  de- 
vour him,  bade  him  opens  but  then  as  he  bit  him  the 
oyster  squeezed  his  head  and  held  it ;  and  the  cat  came 
and  killed  him*  (H  51  [3]  v.) 

The  spider  thinking  to  find  repose  within  the  key- 
hole, found  death.  (C.  A.  299  ?.  £.) 

The  knife, — an  artificial  weapon — deprives  man  of  his 
nails — his  natural  weapon. 

The  mirror  bore  itself  proudly  holding  the  queen 
mirrored  within  it,  and  after  she  has  departed  the  mirror 
remains.  (S.  K.  M.  «/.  44  v.) 

The  paper  on  seeing  itself  all  spotted  by  the  obscure 
blackness  of  the  ink  gneves  at  it,  and  the  ink  shows  it 
that  by  reason  of  the  words  composed  upon  it  it  becomes 
the  cause  of  its  preservation.  ($,  K.  M.  in.  27  r.) 

Loyalty.  The  cranes  in  order  that  their  king  may 
not  perish  by  their  keeping  bad  guard  stand  round  him 
at  night  holding  stones  in  their  feet.  Love,  fear,  and 
reverence — write  these  upon  the  three  stones  of  the 
cranes.  (#118  [25  ?.]  r.) 

FOR    WELL-DOING 

By  the  branch  of  the  nut-tree  which  is  struck  and 
beaten  just  when  it  has  brought  its  fruit  to  perfection, 
is  represented  those  who  as  the  sequel  of  their  illustrious 
works  are  struck  by  envy  in  divers  ways,  (G  88  v .) 

By  the  thorn  upon  which  is  grafted  the  good  fruits  is 
meant  that  which  is  not  of  itself  predisposed  to  virtue, 


I'LATE  iz 


COLUMBINE 


Fat*  f.  262 


ALLEGORIES  263 

yet  by  the  help  of  an  instructor  itself  produces  the  most 
useful  virtues* 

One  pushes  down  another  :  by  these  cubes l  are  repre- 
sented the  life  and  conditions  of  mankind.  (G  89  r.) 

[FOR   AN   ALLEGORICAL   REPRESENTATION] 

II  Moro,  as  the  figure  of  Fortune  with  hair  and  robes 
and  with  hands  held  in  front,  and  Messer  Gualtieri  with 
act  of  obeisance  plucks  him  by  the  robes  from  below  as 
he  presents  himself  before  him. 

Also  Poverty  as  a  hideous  figure  running  behind  a 
youth,  whom  II  Moro  covers  with  the  skirt  of  his  robe 
while  he  threatens  the  monster  with  his  gilded  sceptre. 

(/i 38  [90]*.) 

[FOR   AN    ALLEGORICAL    REPRESENTATION] 

II  Moro  with  the  spectacles  and  Envy  represented 
with  lying  Slander,  and  Justice  black  for  II  Moro. 

Labour  with  the  vine  in  her  hand.  (H  88  [40]  v.) 

The  great  bird  will  take  its  first  flight  upon  the  back 
of  the  great  swan,  filling  the  whole  world  with  amaze- 
ment and  filling  all  records  with  its  fame ;  and  it  will 
bring  eternal  glory  to  the  nest  where  it  was  born. 

(SulPolo  degli  Uccetti,  covtr,  a  r.) 

To  write  thus  clearly  of  the  kite  would  seem  to  be  my 
destiny,  because  in  the  earliest  recollections  of  my  infancy 
it  seemed  to  me  when  I  was  in  the  cradle  that  a  kite 
came  and  opened  my  mouth  with  its  tail  and  struck  me 

within  upon  the  lips  with  its  tail  many  times- 

(C.  A.  66,  v,  b.) 
1  MS,  has  a  diagram  with  dice. 


a64  A  FANTASTIC  TALE 

DEAR  BENEDETTO,— To  give  you  the  news  of  the 
things  here  from  the  east,  you  must  know  that  in  the 
month  of  June  there  appeared  a  giant  who  came  from 
the  Libyan  desert.  This  giant  was  born  on  Mount 
Atlas,  and  was  bkck,  and  he  fought  against  Artaxerxes 
with  the  Egyptians  and  Arabs,  the  Medes  and  Persians  ; 
he  lived  in  the  sea  upon  the  whales,  the  great  leviathans 
and  the  ships.  When  the  savage  giant  fell  by  reason 
of  the  ground  bring  covered  over  with  blood  and  mire, 
it  seemed  as  though  a  mountain  had  fallen ;  whereat  the 
country  [shook]  as  though  there  were  an  earthquake, 
with  terror  to  Pluto  in  hell,  and  Mars  fearing  for  his 
life  fled  for  refuge  under  the  side  of  Jove.1  And  from 
the  violence  of  the  shock  he  lay  prostrate  on  the  level 
ground  as  though  stunned;  until  suddenly  the  people 
believing  that  he  had  been  killed  by  some  thunderbolt, 
began  to  turn  about  his  great  beard ;  and  like  a  flock 
of  ants  that  range  about  hither  and  thither  furiously 
among  the  brambles  beaten  down  by  the  axe  of  the 
sturdy  peasant,  so  these  are  hurrying  about  over  his 
huge  limbs  and  piercing  them  with  frequent  wounds. 
At  this  the  giant  being  roused,  and  perceiving  himself 
to  be  almost  covered  by  the  crowd,  suddenly  on  feeling 
himself  smarting  from  their  stabs,  uttered  a  roar  which 
seemed  as  though  it  were  a  terrific  peal  of  thunder,  and 
set  his  hands  on  the  ground  and  lifted  up  his  awe- 
inspiring  countenance  ;  and  then  placing  one  of  his  hands 

1  MS.  *Martc  teroedo  dela  vita  sera  fugito  sotto  lato  dj  giovc/  These 
words  in  Leonardo's  writing  occur  at  the  side  and  are  not  found  in  the 
transcript  of  the  Italian  edition.  I  have  ventured  to  insert  them  where  they 
seemed  to  best  fit  the  sense,  and  also*  to  change  the  order  of  some  of  the 
sentences  which  are  written  in  the  margin. 


A  FANTASTIC  TALE  265 

upon  his  head,  he  perceived  it  to  be  covered  with  men 
sticking  to  the  hairs  after  the  fashion  of  tiny  creatures 
which  are  sometimes  harboured  there,  and  who,  as  they 
clung  to  the  hairs  and  strove  to  hide  among  them,  were 
like  sailors  in  a  storm  who  mount  the  rigging  in  order 
to  lower  the  sail  and  lessen  the  force  of  the  wind  ;  and 
at  this  point  he  shook  his  head  and  sent  the  men  flying 
through  the  air  after  the  manner  of  hail  when  it  is  driven 
by  the  fury  of  the  winds,  and  many  of  these  men.  were 
found  to  be  killed  by  those  who  fell  on  them  Eke  a  tempest. 
Then  he  stood  erect,  trampling  upon  them  with  his  feet. 

(C.  j&  311  r.  *.) 

The  bkck  visage  at  first  sight  is  most  horrible  and 
terrifying  to  look  upon,  especially  the  swollen  and  blood- 
shot eyes  set  beneath  the  awful  lowering  eyebrows  which 
cause  the  sky  to  be  overcast  and  the  earth  to  tremble. 
And  believe  me  there  is  no  man  so  brave  but  that,  when 
the  fiery  eyes  were  turned  upon  him,  he  would  willingly 
have  put  on  wings  in  order  to  escape,  for  the  face  of 
infernal  Lucifer  would  seem  angelic  by  contrast  with  this. 

The  nose  was  turned  up  in  a  snout  with  wide  nostrils 
and  sticking  out  of  these  were  quantities  of  large  bristles, 
beneath  which  was  the  arched  mouth,  with  the  thick  lips, 
at  whose  extremities  were  hairs  like  those  of  cats,  and 
the  teeth  were  yellow.  He  towered  above  the  heads  of 
men  on  horseback  from  the  top  of  his  feet  upwards. 

And  as  his  cramped  position  had  been  irksome,  ancUn 
order  to  rid  himself  of  the  importunity  of  the  throng, 
his  rage  turned  to  frenzy,  and  he  began  to  let  his  feet 
give  vent  to  the  frenzy  which  possessed  his  mighty  limbs, 


266  A  FANTASTIC  TALE 

and  entering  in  among  the  crowd  he  began  by  his  kicks  to 
toss  men  up  in  the  air,  so  that  they  fell  down  again  upon 
the  rest  as  though  there  had  been  a  thick  storm  of  hail, 
and  many  were  those  who  in  dying  dealt  out  death.  And 
this  barbarity  continued  until  such  time  as  the  dust  stirred 
up  by  his  great  feet,  rising  up  in  the  air,  compelled  his 
infernal  fury  to  abate,  while  we  continued  our  flight. 

Alas,  how  many  attacks  were  made  upon  this  raging 
fiend  to  whom  every  onslaught  was  as  nothing  1  O 
wretched  folk,  for  you  there  avail  not  the  impregnable 
fortresses,  nor  the  lofty  walls  of  your  cities,  nor  the  being 
together  in  great  numbers,  nor  your  houses  or  palaces  I 
There  remained  not  any  place  unless  it  were  the  tiny 
holes  and  subterranean  caverns  where  after  the  manner 
of  crabs  and  crickets  and  creatures  like  these  you  might 
find  safety  and  a  means  of  escape.  Oh,  how  many 
wretched  mothers  and  fathers  were  deprived  of  their 
children  !  How  many  unhappy  women  were  deprived 
of  their  companions !  In  truth,  my  dear  Benedetto,  I 
do  not  believe  that  ever  since  the  world  was  created 
there  has  been  witnessed  such  lamentation  and  wailing 
of  people  accompanied  by  so  great  terror.  In  truth, 
the  human  species  in  such  a  plight  has  need  to  envy 
every  other  race  of  creatures  ;  for  though  the  eagle  has 
strength  sufficient  to  subdue  the  other  birds,  they  yet 
remain  unconquered  through  the  rapidity  of  their  flight, 
and  so  the  swallows  through  their  speed  escape  becoming 
the  prey  of  the  falcon,  and  the  dolphins  also  by  their 
swift  flight  escape  becoming  the  prey  of  the  whales  and 
of  the  mighty  leviathans ;  but  for  us  wretched  mortals 
there  avails  not  any  flight,  since  this  monster  when 


PROPHECIES  367 

advancing  slowly  far  exceeds  the  speed  of  the  swiftest 
courser. 

I  know  not  what  to  say  or  do  for  everywhere  I  seem 
to  find  myself  swimming  with  bent  head  within  the 
mighty  throat  and  remaining  indistinguishable  in  death, 
buried  within  the  huge  belly.  (C.  A.  96  v.  b.) 


PROPHECIES 

THE    DIVISIONS   OF   THE    PROPHECIES 

First  of  things  which  relate  to  the  reasoning  animals, 
second  those  which  have  not  the  power  of  reason, 
third  of  plants,  fourth  of  ceremonies,  fifth  of  customs, 
sixth  of  propositions,  decrees  or  disputes,  seventh  of 
propositions  contrary  to  nature  (as  to  speak  of  a  substance 
which  the  more  there  is  taken  from  it  is  the  more  in- 
creased), and  reserve  the  weighty  propositions  until  the 
end,  and  begin  with  those  of  less  import,  and  show  first 
the  evils  and  then  the  punishments,  eighth  of  philosophical 
things* 

i 

OF    FOOD   WHICH    HAS   BEEN    ALIVE 

A  large  part  of  the  bodies  which  have  had  life  will 
pass  into  the  bodies  of  other  animals,  that  is  the  houses 
no  longer  inhabited  will  pass  piecemeal  through  those 
which  are  inhabited,  ministering  to  their  needs  and  bear- 
ing away  with  them  what  is  waste ;  that  is  to  say  that 
the  life  of  man  is  made  by  the  things  which  he  eats,  and 
that  these  carry  with  them  that  part  of  man  which  is 
dead. 


268  PROPHECIES 


OF    MEN   WHO    SLEEP    UPON    PLANKS  MADE   FROM    TREES 

Men  will  sleep  and  eat  and  make  their  dwelling  among 
trees  grown  in  the  forests  and  the  fields. 


OF   DREAMING 

It  shall  seem  to  men  that  they  see  new  destructions  in 
the  sky,  and  the  flames  descending  therefrom  shall  seem 
to  have  taken  flight  and  to  flee  away  in  terror ;  they 
shall  hear  creatures  of  every  kind  speaking  human  lan- 
guage ;  they  shall  run  in  a  moment  in  person  to  divers 
parts  of  the  world  without  movement ;  amidst  the  dark- 
ness they  shall  see  the  most  radiant  splendours.  O 
marvel  of  mankind  !  What  frenzy  has  thus  impelled 
you  !  You  shall  hold  converse  with  animals  of  every 
species,  and  they  with  you  in  human  language.  You  shall 
behold  yourselves  falling  from  great  heights  without 
suffering  any  injury ;  the  torrents  will  bear  you  with 
them  as  they,  mingle  in  their  rapid  course. 

OF   CHILDREN    WHO   ARE   WRAPPED   IN   SWADDLING   BANDS 

O  cities  of  the  sea,  I  behold  in  you  your  citizens,  women 
as  well  as  men,  tightly  bound  with  stout  bonds  around 
their  arms  and  legs  by  folk  who  will  have  no  under- 
standing of  our  speech ;  and  you  will  only  be  able  to 
give  vent  to  your  griefs  and  sense  of  loss  of  liberty  by 
making  tearful  complaints  and  sighs  and  lamentation 
one  to  another,  for  those  who  bind  you  will  not  have 
understanding  of  your  speech  nor  will  you  understand 
them.  (C.  A.  143  r,  a.) 


PROPHECIES  269 

OF    REAPERS 

There  will  be  many  who  will  be  moving  one  against 
another,  holding  in  their  hands  the  sharp  cutting  iron. 
These  will  not  do  each  other  any  hurt  other  than  that 
caused  by  fatigue,  for  as  one  leans  forward  the  other 
draws  back  an  equal  space  ;  but  woe  to  him  who  inter- 
venes between  them,  for  in  the  end  he  will  be  left  cut  in 
pieces. 

OF   THOSE   WHO   ARE    BEATEN    AND   SCOURGED 

Men  will  hide  themselves  within  the  bark  of  hollow 
trees,  and  there  crying  aloud  they  will  make  martyrs  of 
themselves  by  beating  their  own  limbs. 

OF    DREAMING 

Men  shall  walk  without  moving,  they  shall  speak  with 
those  who  are  absent,  they  shall  hear  those  who  do  not 
speak. 

OF   SOLDIERS  ON    HORSEBACK 

Many  shall  be  seen  carried  by  large  animals  with  great 
speed  to  the  loss  of  their  lives  and  to  instant  death. 

In  the  air  and  on  the  earth  shall  be  seen  animals  of 
different  colours  bearing  men  furiously  to  the  destruc- 
tion of  their  lives.  (C.  A.  370  r.  a.) 

You  shall  behold  the  bones  of  the  dead  by  their  rapid 
movement  directing  the  fortunes  of  their  mover  :— The 
dice.  (1 64  [16]  v.) 

Men  will  deal  rude  blows  to  that  which  is  the  cause 
of  their  life  : — They  will  thrash  the  grain. 


270  PROPHECIES 

The  skins  of  animals  will  make  men  rouse  from  their 
silence  with  loud  cries  and  oaths : — Balls  for  playing 
games. 

The  wind  which  passes  through  the  skins  of  animals 
will  make  men  leap  up  : — That  is  the  bag-pipes  which 
cause  men  to  dance.  (/  [65]  17  r.) 

OF   CHILDREN    WHO   TAKE    THE    BREAST 

Many  Franciscans,  Dominicans,  and  Benedictines  will 
eat  that  which  has  recently  been  eaten  by  others,  and 
they  will  remain  many  months  before  being  able  to 
speak.  (/67[i9]r.) 

OF  SHOEMAKERS 

Men  will  take  a  pleasure  in  seeing  their  own  works 
worn  out  and  destroyed.  (s.  K.  M.  a.  61  *.) 

ii 

OF  ANTS 

Many  communities  will  there  be  who  will  hide  them- 
selves and  their  young  and  their  victuals  within  gloomy 
caverns,  and  there  in  dark  places  will  sustain  themselves 
and  their  families  for  many  months  without  any  light 
either  artificial  or  natural. 

OF  BEES 

And  many  others  will  be  robbed  of  their  store  of 
provisions  and  their  food,  and  by  an  insensate  folk 
will  be  cruelly  immersed  and  drowned*  O  justice 
of  God !  why  dost  thou  not  awake  to  behold  thy 
creatures  thus  abused  ? 


PROPHECIES  271 

OF   SHEEP,   COWS,   GOATS  AND  THE    LIKE 

From  countless  numbers  will  be  stolen  their  little 
children,  and  the  throats  of  these  shall  be  cut,  and  they 
shall  be  quartered  most  barbarously. 

OF   CATS    THAT   EAT    RATS 

In  you,  O  cities  of  Africa !  your  own,  sons  shall  be 
seen  torn  to  pieces  within  their  own  houses  by  most 
cruel  and  savage  animals  of  your  country. 

OF   ASSES   WHICH    ARE   BEATEN 

O  neglectful  nature,  wherefore  art  thou  thus  partial, 
becoming  to  some  of  thy  children  a  tender  and  benig- 
nant mother,  to  others  a  most  cruel  and  ruthless  step- 
mother ?  I  see  thy  children  given  into  slavery  to  others 
without  ever  receiving  any  benefit,  and  in  lieu  of  any 
reward  for  the  services  they  have  done  for  them  they 
are  repaid  by  the  severest  punishments,  and  they  con- 
stantly spend  their  lives  in  the  service  of  their  oppressor. 

(C.  A.  145  r.  a.) 

OF   SNAKES  CARRIED    BY    SWANS 

Serpents  of  huge  size  will  be  seen  at  an  immense 
height  in  the  air  fighting  with  birds.  (C.  A.  129  v.  a.) 

OF   THE    BELLS  OF   MULES   WHICH  ARE   CLOSE  TO 
THEIR   EARS 

There  shall  be  heard  in  many  parts  of  Europe  instru- 
ments of  various  sizes  making  divers  melodies,  causing 
great  weariness  to  those  who  hear  them  most  closely. 


272  PROPHECIES 

OF   ASSES 

The  many  labours  shall  be  repaid  by  hunger,  thirst, 
wretchedness,  blows,  and  goadings. 

OF    THE    HAFTS  OF    KNIVES    MADE    OF    RAMS*    HORNS 

In  the  horns  of  animals  shall  be  seen  sharp  irons  which 
shall  take  away  the  lives  of  many  of  their  species. 

(C.  A.  370  r.  a.) 

OF    BOWS    MADE    FROM    THE    HORNS  OF   OXEN 

Many  there  will  be  who  by  means  of  the  horns  of 
cattle  will  die  a  painful  death.  (C.  A.  370  v.  a.) 

You  will  see  the  lion  tribe  tearing  open  the  earth  with 
hooked  claws,  and  burying  themselves  in  the  holes  that 
they  have  made  together  with  the  other  animals  which 
are  in  subjection  to  them. 

There  shall  come  forth  from  the  ground  creatures  clad 
in  darkness  who  shall  attack  the  human  race  with  tre- 
mendous onslaughts,  and  it  shall  have  the  blood  poisoned 
by  their  fierce  bites  even  while  it  is  devoured  by 
them. 

There  shall  also  hurtle  through  the  air  a  tribe  of 
dreadful  winged  creatures  who  shall  attack  both  men  and 
beasts  and  feed  upon  them  with  loud  cries, — They  shall 
fill  their  bellies  full  of  crimson  blood.  (/  63  [15]  r.) 

Oxen  shall  by  their  horns  protect  the  fire  from  death : 
—The  lantern.  (/  64  [16]  p.) 


PROPHECIES  273 

OF   COCKLES   AND   SEA-SNAILS   CAST    UP    BY   THE   SEA 
WHICH    ROT   WITHIN   THEIR  SHELLS 

How  many  shall  there  be  who  after  they  are  dead  will 
lie  rotting  in  their  own  houses,  filling  all  the  air  around 
with  their  foul  stench.  (/  67  [19]  r.) 

OF  KIDS 

The  time  of  Herod  shall  return ;  for  the  innocent 
children  shall  be  torn  away  from  their  nurses  and  shall 

die  of  great  wounds  at  the  hands  of  cruel  men. 

(8.  JE,  jlf.  &  9  v.) 

The  oxen  will  become  in  great  part  the  cause  of  the 
destruction  of  cities  and  so  likewise  will  horses  and 
buffaloes  : — They  draw  the  guns.  (B.  M*  263,  Ar.  42  *,) 

in 

OF    NUTS,  OLIVES,   ACORNS,    CHESTNUTS,  AND  THE    LIKE 

Many  children  shall  be  torn  with  pitiless  beatings  out 
of  the  very  arms  of  their  mothers  and  flung  upon  the 
ground  and  then  maimed.  (C.  A.  145  r.  a.) 

OF   WOOD   THAT   IS    BURNT 

The  trees  and  shrubs  of  the  vast  forests  shall  be 
changed  to  ashes. 

OF   FLAX   WHEREBY   PAPER    IS   MADE   OUT   OF    RAGS 

That  shall  be  revered  and  honoured  and  its  precepts 
shall  be  listened  to  with  reverence  and  love,  which  was 
at  first  despised  and  mangled  and  tortured  with  many 
different  blows". 


PROPHECIES 


OF   WOODEN   COFFERS  WHICH    ENCLOSE   MANY  TREASURES 

Within  walnuts  and  other  trees  and  plants  there  shall 
be  found  very  great  treasures  which  lie  hidden  there. 

(C.  A.  370  r.  a.) 

The  forests  will  bring  forth  young  who  will  become 
the  cause  of  their  death.  —  The  handle  of  the  hatchet. 

(7  64  [16]*), 

OF    NUT  TREES   WHICH    ARE    BEATEN 

Those  which  have  done  best  will  be  most  beaten,  and 
their  children  will  be  carried  off  and  stripped  or  de- 
spoiled, and  their  bones  broken  and  crushed. 

(7  65  [17]  *) 

OF   TREES    WHICH   GIVE   SAP   TO   GRAFTED    SHOOTS 

Fathers  and  mothers  shall  be  seen  to  bestow  much 
more  attention  upon  their  step-children  than  upon  their 
own  children.  (B.  M.  263,  Ar.  212  £.) 

OF   THE   MOWING   DOWN    OF    GRASS 

Innumerable  lives  will  be  extinguished,  and  innumer- 
able vacant  spaces  created  upon  the  earth. 

(S.  K.  M.  u.  34.  r.) 

IV 
OF   CHRISTIANS 

There  are  many  who  hold  the  faith  of  the  Son  and 
only  build  temples  in  the  name  of  the  Mother. 

(C.  A,  145  r.  *) 


PLATE  13 


RANUNCULUS  REI'ENS    ORNITHOGALIM  I  MHELLIFERL'M    ANEMONE  NEMOROSA 
(Cr,,f>v\  Crwtfa)  (Star  of  Btt&Mfm)  (Wood  Anemone] 

EIPHORBIA  KSl'LA 
(Ltafy'Rrdncitfd  fy 


Face  /.  274 


PROPHECIES  175 

OF   FUNERAL    RITES  AND   PROCESSIONS  AND   LIGHTS 
AND    BELLS  AND   FOLLOWERS 

The  greatest  honours  and  ceremonies  shall  be  paid  to 
men  without  their  knowledge.  (C.  A.  145  *.  *.) 

OF  THE  WORSHIPPING  OF  PICTURES  OF  SAINTS 
Men  shall  speak  with  men  who  shall  not  hear  them  ; 
their  eyes  shall  be  open  and  they  shall  not  see;  they 
will  speak  to  them  and  there  shall  be  no  reply;  they 
will  ask  pardon  from  one  who  has  ears  and  does  not 
hear;  they  will  offer  light  to  one  who  is  blind,  and  to 
the  deaf  they  will  appeal  with  loud  clamour.1 

OF   THR  LAMENTATIONS   MADE   ON    GOOD   FRIDAY 

In  all  the  parts  of  Europe  there  shall  be  lamentations 
by  great  nations  for  the  death  of  one  man.2 

(C.  A.  370  r.  a,) 

OF   REMOVING   ON   ALL   SAINTS*    DAY 

Many  shall  leave  their  own  dwellings  and  shall  carry 
with  them  all  their  goods  and  go  to  dwell  in  other  lands. 

OF   ALL   SOULS*    DAY 

How  many  will  there  be  who  will  mourn  for  their 
dead  ancestors,  carrying  lights  for  them  ! 

OF    FRIARS   WHO    BY   SPENDING   ONLY   WORDS   RECEIVE 
GREAT    RICHES  AND    BESTOW   PARADISE 

Invisible  money  will  cause  many  who  spend  it  to 
triumph.  (C.  J.  370  *  a.) 


*  MS.  'ftran  tome  a  [chi]  I  orbo  [.  .  .]  lordi  con  gran  [.  .  ,]ore.* 

*  '  Who  died  in  the  East  '  follows  in  MS.  but  it  crossed  out 


276  PROPHECIES 

OF  THE  RELIGION  OF  THE  FRIARS  WHO  LIVE  BY  MEANS 
OF  THE  SAINTS  WHO  HAVE  BEEN  DEAD  FOR  A 
LONG  TIME 

Those  who  are  dead  will  after  a  thousand  years  be 
those  who  will  make  provision  for  many  of  the  living* 

(/  66  [18]  *,) 

OF    PRIESTS  WHO   SAY    MASS 

Many  shall  there  be  who  in  order  to  practise  their 
calling  shall  put  on  the  richest  vestments,  and  these  shall 
seem  to  be  made  after  the  manner  of  aprons. 

OF  FRIARS  WHO    HOLD   CONFESSION 

The  unhappy  women  of  their  own  accord  shall  go  to 
reveal  to  men  all  their  wantonness  and  their  shameful 
and  most  secret  acts. 

OF   THE   CHURCHES  AND    HABITATIONS   OF   FRIARS 

There  will'  be  many  who  will  abandon  work  and 
labour  and  poverty  of  life  and  possessions,  and  will  go 
to  dwell  among  riches  and  in  splendid  buildings,  pre- 
tending that  this  is  a  means  of  becoming  acceptable 
to  God. 

OF   THE  SELLI'.x     OF   PARADISE 

A  countless  multitude  wui  sell  publicly  and  without 
hindrance  things  of  the  very  greatest  value  without 
licence  from  the  Lord  of  these  things,  which  were  never 
theirs  nor  in  their  power ;  and  human  justice  will  take 
no  account  of  this. 


PROPHECIES  277 

OF   THE    DEAD   WHO   ARE   TAKEN   TO    BE   BURIED 

The  simple  folk  will  carry  a  great  number  of  lights 
to  light  up  the  journeys  of  all  those  who  have  wholly 
lost  the  power  of  sight  !  O  human  folly  !  O  madness 
of  mankind!  These  two  phrases  stand  for  the  com- 
mencement of  the  matter.  (C.  A.  370  ?.  a.) 

OF  SCULPTURE 

Alas  !  whom  do  I  see  ?    The  Saviour  crucified  again. 


OF   CRUCIFIXES   WHICH    ARE   SOLD 

I  see  Christ  again  sold  and  crucified  and  His  saints 
suffering  martyrdom.  (/  66  [18]  v.) 

OF    PRIESTS   WHO    BEAR   THE    HOST  IN    THEIR    BODIES 

Then  almost  all  the  tabernacles  where  dwells  the 
Corpus  Domini  will  be  plainly  visible  walking  about  of 
themselves  on  the  different  roads  of  the  world* 

(7  65  [17],.) 

OF   THE   THURIBLE    WITH    INCENSE 

Some  shall  go  about  in  white  vestments  with  arrogant 
gestures  threatening  others  with  metal  a$d  fire,  which 
yet  have  never  done  them  any  harm. 

(£.  M.263>4r.  212  &) 

And  many  have  made  a  trade  in  deceits  and  feigned 
miracles,  cozening  the  foolish  herd,  and  if  ho  one 
showed  himself  cognisant  of  their  deceits  they  would 
impose  them  upon  all.  (F  5  *.) 


278  PROPHECIES 

Frati  Santi  spells  Pharisees.  (Tr.  Tav.  63  a.) 

That  shall  be  drowned  which  supplies  the  light  for 
divine  service : — The  bees  which  make  the  wax  for 
the  candles.  (B.  M.  263,  Ar.  42  £.} 


OF  SILK    SPINNING 

There  shall  be  heard  mournful  cries,  and  loud  shrieks, 
hoarse,  angry  voices  of  those  who  are  tortured  and 
despoiled  and  at  kst  left  naked  and  motionless  ;  and 
this  shall  be  by  reason  of  the  motive  power  which  turns 
the  whole. 

OF    FEATHERS   IN    BEDS 

Flying  creatures  will  support  men  with  their 
feathers. 

OF   THE   SOLES   OF   SHOES   WHICH    ARE  OF    LEATHER 

Over  a  great  part  of  the  country  men  shall  be  seen 
walking  about  on  the  skins  of  large  animals. 

OF   A   STICK   WHICH    IS   A    DEAD   THING 

The  movement  of  the  dead  shall  cause  many  who 
are  living  to  flee  away  with  grief  and  lamentation 
and  cries. 

OF    BEATING  THE    BED   TO    REMAKE    IT 

To  such  a  pitch  of  ingratitude  shall  men  come  that 
that  which  shall  give  them  lodging  without  any  price 
shall  be  loaded  with  blows,  in  such  a  way  that  great  parts 
of  the  inside  of  it  shall  be  detached  from  their  place  and 
shall  be  turned  over  and  over  within  it. 


PROPHECIES  279 

OF   SHIPS  THAT   FOUNDER 

There  shall  be  seen  huge  bodies  devoid  of  life,  carrying 
great  numbers  of  men  with  fierce  speed  to  the  destruc- 
tion of  their  lives.  (C.  A.  370  r.  a) 

OF    SAILING    IN    SHIPS 

The  trees  of  the  vast  forests  of  Taurus  and  of  Sinai,  of 
the  Apennines  and  of  Adas l  shall  be  seen  speeding  by 
means  of  the  air  from  East  to  West,  and  from  North  to 
South,  and  transporting  by  means  of  the  air  a  great 
quantity  of  men.  O,  how  many  vows !  How  many 
deaths  !  What  partings  'twixt  friends  and  rektives  shall 
there  be  !  How  many  who  shall  never  more  behold 
their  own  lands  or  their  native  country,  and  shall  die  un- 
sepulchred  and  their  bones  be  scattered  in  divers  parts 
of  the  world.  (C.  A.  370  v.  a.) 

Feathers  shall  raise  men  even  as  they  do  birds  towards 
heaven : — That  is  by  letters  written  with  their  quills. 

(/64[i6]«g 

Many  times  the  thing  that  is  severed  becomes  the  cause 
of  great  union  : — That  is  the  comb  made  up  of  split*  canes 
which  unites  the  threads  in  the  silk.  (/  65  [17]  r.) 

And  those  who  feed  the  air  will  turn  night  into 
day : — Tallow.  (/  66  [i  8]  r.) 

OF    DOCTORS   WHO    LIVE    UPON   THE   SICK 

Men  will  come  to  such  a  state  of  misery  that  they  will 
be  grateful  that  others  should  profit  by  their  sufferings, 
or  by  the  loss  of  their  true  riches,  that  is  health. 

i  MS.'talas.* 


a8o  PROPHECIES 

OF   CANNON  WHICH    COME    FORTH    OUT   OF  A   PIT 
AND    FROM    A    MOULD 

There  shall  come  forth  from  beneath  the  ground  that 
which  by  its  terrific  report  shall  stun  all  who  are  near  it 
and  cause  men  to  drop  dead  at  its  breath,  and  it  shall 
devastate  cities  and  castles.  (C.  A.  129  v.  *.) 

OF   CORN   AND   OTHER  SEEDS 

Men  shall  throw  away  out  of  their  houses  those 
victuals  which  were  meant  for  the  sustenance  of  their 
lives.  (A  M.  263,  Ar.  212  b.) 

Many  there  will  be  who  will  wax  great  in  destruc- 
tion : — The  ball  of  snow  rolling  over  the  snow. 

There  will  be  a  great  host,  who,  forgetful  of  their  exist- 
ence and  their  name,  will  lie  as  dead  upon  the  spoils  of 
other  dead  : — Sleeping  upon  the  feathers  of  birds. 

Oh!  how  many  great  buildings  will  be  ruined  by 
reason  of  fire  : — By  the  fire  of  the  guns. 

(A  M.  263,  AT.  42  b.) 

VI 
OF   PLOUGHED    LAND 

The  earth  will  be  seen  turned  upside  down  and  facing 
the  opposite  hemispheres,  and  laying  bare  the  holes 
where  lurk  the  fiercest  animals. 

OF  BRICKKILNS  AND   LIMEKILNS 

At  the  last  the  earth  will  become  red  after  being 
exposed  to  fire  for  many  days,  and  the  stones  will 
become  changed  to  ashes. 


PROPHECIES  281 

OF  BOOKS  WHICH  INCULCATE   PRECEPTS 

Bodies  without  souls  shall  by  their  sayings  supply 
precepts  which  shall  help  us  to  die  well. 

OF  THE   SHADOW  THAT  MOVES  WITH   MAN 

There  shall  be  seen  shapes  and  figures  of  men  and 
animals  which  shall  pursue  these  men  and  animals  where- 
soever they  flee  ;  and  the  movements  of  the  one  shall  be 
as  those  of  the  other,  but  it  shall  seem  a  thing  to  wonder 
at  because  of  the  different  dimensions  which  they  assume. 

(C.  . 


OF  THE  SHADOW  CAST  BY    MAN   AT   NIGHT  WITH   A  LIGHT 

There  shall  appear  huge  figures  in  human  shape,  and 
the  nearer  to  you  they  approach  the  more  will  their 
immense  size  diminish.  (K  50  [i]  ?.) 

OF  THE  SHADOW  CAST  BY  THE  SUN  AND  OF  THE  RE- 
FLECTION IN  THE  WATER  SEEN  AT  ONE  AND  THE 
SAME  TIME 

Many  times  one  man  shall  be  seen  to  change  into 
three  and  all  shall  proceed  together,  and  often  the  one 
that  is  most  real  abandons  him. 


OF  THE  WALLS   OF  CITIES  REFLECTED   IN  THE 
WATER    OF  THEIR  TRENCHES 

The  high  walls  of  mighty  cities  shall  be  seen  inverted 
in  their  trenches. 


280  PROPHECIES 

OF   CANNON  WHICH    COME    FORTH    OUT   OF  A    PIT 
AND    FROM    A    MOULP 

There  shall  come  forth  from  beneath  the  ground  that 
which  by  its  terrific  report  shall  stun  all  who  are  near  it 
and  cause  men  to  drop  dead  at  its  breath,  and  it  shall 
devastate  cities  and  castles.  (C.  A.  129  v.  a.) 

OF   CORN  AND   OTHER  SEEDS 

Men  shall  throw  away  out  of  their  houses  those 
victuals  which  were  meant  for  the  sustenance  of  their 
lives.  (A  M.  263,  Ar.  212  3.) 

Many  there  will  be  who  will  wax  great  in  destruc- 
tion : — The  ball  of  snow  rolling  over  the  snow. 

There  will  be  a  great  host,  who,  forgetful  of  their  exist- 
ence and  their  name,  will  lie  as  dead  upon  the  spoils  of 
other  dead  : — Sleeping  upon  the  feathers  of  birds. 

Oh!  how  many  great  buildings  will  be  ruined  by 
reason  of  fire : — By  the  fire  of  the  guns. 

(A  M.  263,  Ar.  42  *.) 

VI 
OF   PLOUGHED    LAND 

The  earth  will  be  seen  turned  upside  down  and  facing 
the  opposite  hemispheres,  and  laying  bare  the  holes 
where  lurk  the  fiercest  animals. 

OF   BRICKKILNS  AND   LIMEKILNS 

At  the  last  the  earth  will  become  red  after  being 
exposed  to  fire  for  many  days,  and  the  stones  will 
become  changed  to  ashes. 


PROPHECIES  281 

OF   BOOKS  WHICH   INCULCATE   PRECEPTS 

Bodies  without  souls  shall  by  their  sayings  supply 
precepts  which  shall  help  us  to  die  well. 

OF  THE  SHADOW  THAT  MOVES  WITH    MAN 

There  shall  be  seen  shapes  and  figures  of  men  and 
animals  which  shall  pursue  these  men  and  animals  where- 
soever they  flee  ;  and  the  movements  of  the  one  shall  be 
as  those  of  the  other,  but  it  shall  seem  a  thing  to  wonder 
at  because  of  the  different  dimensions  which  they  assume* 

(C.  J.  370  r.  *.) 

OF  THE  SHADOW  CAST  BY    MAN   AT  NIGHT  WITH  A  LIGHT 

There  shall  appear  huge  figures  in  human  shape,  and 
the  nearer  to  you  they  approach  the  more  will  their 
immense  size  diminish.  (X  50  [i]  *.) 

OF  THE  SHADOW  CAST  BY  THE  SUN  AND  OF  THE  RE- 
FLECTION IN  THE  WATER  SEEN  AT  ONE  AND  THE 
SAME  TIME 

Many  times  one  man  shall  be  seen  to  change  into 
three  and  all  shall  proceed  together,  and  often  the  one 
that  is  most  real  abandons  him. 

OF  THE  WALLS  OF  CITIES   REFLECTED   IN  THE 
WATER    OF  THEIR  TRENCHES 

The  high  walls  of  mighty  cities  shall  be  seen  inverted 
in  their  trenches. 


PROPHECIES 


OF  THE  WATER  WHICH  FLOWS  IN  A  TURBID  STREAM 
MINGLED  WITH  EARTH,  AND  OF  THE  DUST  AND 
MIST  MINGLING  WITH  THE  AIR  AND  OF  THE  FIRE 
WHICH  MINGLES  ITS  HEAT  WITH  EACH 

All  the  elements  shall  be  seen  confounded  together, 
surging  in  huge  rolling  mass,  now  towards  the  centre  of 
the  earth,  now  towards  the  sky  ;  at  one  time  coursing  in 
fury  from  the  southern  regions  towards  the  icy  North, 
at  another  time  from  the  East  to  the  West,  and  so  again 
from  this  hemisphere  to  the  other. 

OF   THE    NIGHT   WHEN   ONE   CANNOT    DISTINGUISH 
ANY    COLOUR 

It  shall  even  come  to  pass  that  it  will  be  impossible  to 
tell  the  difference  between  colours,  for  all  will  become 
black  in  hue. 

OF    SWORDS   AND   SPEARS   WHICH    OF   THEMSELVES 
NEVER    DO    HARM    TO   ANY   ONE 

That  which  of  itself  is  gentle  and  void  of  all  offence 
will  become  terrible  and  ferocious  by  reason  of  evil 
companionship,  and  will  take  the  lives  of  many  people 
with  the  utmost  cruelty  ;  and  it  would  sky  many  more 
if  it  were  not  that  these  are  protected  by  "bodies  which 
are  themselves  without  life,  which  have  come  forth  out 
of  pits,  —  that  is  by  cuirasses  of  iron. 

OF  FIRE 

From  small  beginnings  shall  arise  that  which  shall 
rapidly  become  great  ;  and  it  shall  have  respect  for  no 


PROPHECIES  »83 

created  thing,  but  its  power  shall  be  such  as  to  enable 
it  to  transform  almost  everything  from  its  natural 
condition.  (C.  A.  370  r.  <*.) 

OF   WRITING    LETTERS   FROM    ONE   COUNTRY   TO   ANOTHER 

Men  from  the  most  remote  countries  shall  speak  one 
to  another  and  shall  reply. 

OF  THE  HEMISPHERES  WHICH  ARE  INFINITE  AND  DIVIDED 
BY  AN  INFINITE  NUMBER  OF  LINES  IN  SUCH  A 
WAY  THAT  EVERY  MAN  HAS  ALWAYS  ONE  OF  THESE 
LINES  BETWEEN  HIS  FEET 

Men  shall  speak  with  and  touch  and  embrace  each 
other  while  standing  each  in  different  hemispheres,  and 
shall  understand  each  other's  language. 

(C.  A.  370  r.  a.) 

The  works  of  men's  hands  will  become  the  cause  of 
their  death  : — Swords  and  spears.  (764  [16]  *.) 

OF    STONES    CHANGED    INTO    LIME    WITH    WHICH 
PRISON  WALLS  ARE    BUILT 

Many  things  which  have  previously  been  destroyed  by 
fire  will  deprive  many  men  of  their  liberty. 

(/66[i8]r.) 

VII 

You  shall  see  plants  continuing  without  leaves  and 
rivers  standing  still  in  their  courses. 

The  water  of  the  sea  shall  rise  above  the  high  summits 
of  the  mountains  towards  the  sky,  and  it  shall  fall  down 
again  on  to  the  dwellings  of  men  : — That  is  as  clouds. 


*84  PROPHECIES 

Men  shall  cast  away  thtir  own  food : — That  is  in 
sowing.  (I6s[is]t>.) 

The  generation  of  men  shall  come  to  such  a  pass  as 
not  to  understand  one  another's  speech: — That  is  a 
German  with  a  Turk. 

Men  shall  come  forth  out  of  the  graves  changed  to 
winged  creatures,  and  they  shall  attack  other  men,  taking 
away  their  food  even  from  their  hands  and  tables: — 
The  flies. 

Many  there  will  be  who  will  flay  their  own  mother 
and  fold  back  her  skin  : — The  tillers  of  the  ground. 

(764[i6]r.) 

Many  creatures  of  the  earth  and  of  the  water  will 
mount  up  among  the  stars  : — The  Planets. 

You  shajl  see  the  dead  carrying  the  living  in  divers 
parts  of  the  world  : — The  chariots  and  ships. 

From  many  the  food  shall  be  taken  away  out  of  their 
mouths  : — From  ovens. 

And  those  who  have  their  mouths  filled  by  the 
hands  of  others  shall  have  the  food  taken  away  out  of 
their  mouths  : — The  oven.  (/  66  [18]  r.) 

Snow  in  summer  shall  be  gathered  on  the  high  moun- 
tain peaks  and  carried  to  warm  places,  and  there  be  let 
to  fall  down  when  festivals  are  held  in  the  piazza  in  the 

time  of  summer.  (Sul  Polo  degli  Vccelli,  14  [i  3]  r.) 

^^  • 

The  east  shall  be  seen  to  rush  into  the  west  and  the 

south  to  the  north,  whirling  themselves  round  about 
the  universe  with  great  noise  and  trembling : — The 
wind  from  the  east. which  rushes  into  the  west 


PROPHECIES  285 

The  rays  of  the  sun  will  kindle  fire  on  the  earth 
whereby  shall  be  set  alight  that  which  is  beneath  the 
sky,  and  reflected  by  whatever  withstands  their  course 
they  will  turn  downwards : — The  concave  mirror  kindles 
the  fire  with  which  the  oven  is  heated,  and  this  has  a 
foundation  that  stands  beneath  its  roof. 

A  great  part  of  the  sea  will  fly  towards  the  sky, 
and  for  a  long  time  it  will  not  return  : — That  is  in 
clouds. 

There  remains  the  motion  which  separates  the  mover 
from  the  thing  moved. 

The  dead  shall  come  forth  from  under  the  earth,  and 
by  their  fierce  movements  shall  drive  out  of  the  world 
innumerable  human  creatures  : — The  iron  which  comes 
from  under  the  earth  is  dead,  and  it  makes  the  weapons 
wherewith  so  many  men  have  been  slain. 

The  greatest  mountains  even  though  they  are  remote 
from  the  sea  borders  will  drive  the  sea  from  its  place  : — 
That  is  by  the  rivers  which  carry  down  the  soil  they 
have  taken  from  the  mountains  and  deposit  it  upon 
the  seashores;  and  where  the  earth  comes  the  sea 
retires. 

The  water  fallen  from  the  clouds,  which  continue  to 
move  along  the  bases  of  the  mountains,  will  stay  for  a 
long  time  without  making  any  movement,  and  this  will 
take  place  in  many  and  divers  regions : — Snow  which 
falls  in  flakes, — which  is  water. 

The  great  rocks  of  the  mountains  will  dart  forth  fire, 


286  PROPHECIES 

such  that  they  will  burn  up  the  timber  of  many  vast 
forests  and  many  beasts  both  wild  and  tame  : — The  flint 
of  the  tinder-box, — which  makes  a  fire  that  consumes  all 
the  loads  of  faggots  of  which  the  forests  are  cleared, 
and  with  this  the  flesh  of  beasts  is  cooked. 

(B.  M.  263,  Ar.  42  6.) 

VIII 
OF   ADVICE 

He  who  shall  be  most  necessary  to  whoever  has  need 
of  him  will  be  unknown,  and  if  known  will  be  held  of 
less  account.  (C.  A.  37  v.  <r.) 

All  those  things  which  in  the  winter  are  concealed  and 
hidden  beneath  the  snow  will  be  left  bare  and  exposed 
in  summer  : — Said  of  a  lie  which  cannot  remain  hidden. 

(I  39  *>) 

OF   THE    FEAR   OF    POVERTY 

The  malevolent  and- terrifying  thing  shall  of  itself 
strike  such  terror  into  men  that  almost  like  madmen 
while  thinking  to  escape  from  it  they  will  rush  in  swift 
course  upon  its  boundless  forces.  (C*  A.  37  v.  **) 

Happy  will  be  those  who  give  ear  to  the  words  of  the 
dead : — The  reading  of  good  books  and  the  observing 
of  their  precepts.  (/  64 1 16]  r.) 

Men  will  pursue  the  thing  they  most  fear  : — That  is 
they  will  be  miserable  lest  they  should  fall  into  misery. 

Things  severed  shall  be  united  and  shall  acquire  of 
themselves  such  virtue  that  they  shall  restore  to  men 


PROPHECIES  287 

their  lost  memory  :  —  That  is,  the  papyrus  sheets  which 
are  formed  out  of  severed  strips  and  preserve  the 
memory  of  the  thoughts  and  deeds  of  men* 


OF   THE   SKINS   OF   ANIMALS   WHICH    HAVE    THE  SENSE 
OF    FEELING    OF   WHAT    IS   WRITTEN    THERE 

The  more  you  converse  with  skins  covered  over  with 
sentiments,  the  more  you  will  acquire  wisdom. 

OF   THE    MOUTH   OF   MAN    WHICH    IS   A    TOMB 

There  shall  come  forth  loud  noises  out  of  the  tombs 

of  those  who  have  died  by  an  evil  and  violent  death. 

(/6S[i7]rO 

OF  THE  AVARICIOUS 

Many  there  shall  be  who  with  the  utmost  zeal  and 
solicitude  will  pursue  furiously  that  which  has  always  filled 
them  with  awe,  not  knowing  its  evil  nature. 

OF  MEN  WHO  AS  THEY  GROW  OLDER  BECOME  MORE 
MISERLY,  WHEREAS  HAVING  BUT  A  SHORT  TIME  TO 
STAY  THEY  OUGHT  TO  BE  MORE  GENEROUS 

You  will  see  that  those  who  are  considered  to  be  of 
most  experience  and  judgment,  in  proportion  as  they 
come  to  have  less  need  of  things,  seek  and  hoard  them 
with  more  eagerness.  (C.  A.  370  %  a.) 

OF   MONEY  AND   GOLD 

That  shall  come  forth  from  hollow  caves  which  shall 
cause  aH  the  nations  of  the  world  to  toil  and  sweat  with 
great  agitation,  anxiety  and  labour,  in  order  to  gain  its 

(C.  jt.  37  9.  c.) 


288  PROPHECIES 

OF   THB    PRECIOUS   METALS 

There  shall  come  forth  out  of  dark  and  gloomy  caves 
that  which  shall  cause  the  whole  human  race  to  undergo 
great  afflictions,  perils,  and  death*  To  many  of  those 
who  follow  it,  after  much  tribulation  it  will  yield  delight ; 
but  whosoever  pays  it  no  homage  will  die  in  want  and 
misery.  It  shall  bring  to  pass  an  endless  number  of 
crimes;  it  shall  .prompt  and  incite  wretched  men  to 
assassinate,  to  steal,  and  to  enslave;  it  shall  hold  its 
own  followers  in  suspicion  ;  it  shall  deprive  free  cities  of 
their  rank ;  it  shall  take  away  life  itself  from  many ;  it 
shall  make  men  torment  each  other  with  many  kinds  of 
subterfuge,  deceits  and  treacheries* 

O  vile  monster !  How  much  better  were  it  for  men 
that  them  shouldst  go  back  to  hell !  For  this  the  vast 
forests  shall  be  stripped  of  their  trees ;  for  this  an  infinite 

number  of  creatures  shall  lose  their  lives. 

(C.  A,  370  r.  *.) 

OF  THE    DOWRIES   OF   MAIDENS 

And  whereas  at  first  young  maidens  could  not  be 
protected  from  the  lust  and  violence  of  men,  either  by 
the  watchfulness  of  parents  or  by  the  strength  of  walls, 
there  will  come  a  time  when  it  will  be  necessary  for  the 
fathers  and  relatives  of  these  maidens  to  pay  a  great 
price  to  whoever  is  willing  to  marry  them,  even  although 
they  may  be  rich  and  noble  and  exceedingly  beautiful. 
Herein  it  seems  certain  that  nature  desires  to  exterminate 
the  human  race,  as  a  thing  useless  to  the  world  and  the 
destroyer  of  all  created  things* 


PROPHECIES  289 

OF   THE   CRUELTY   OF    MAH 

Creatures  shall  be  seen  upon  the  earth  who  will  always 
be  fighting  one  with  another  with  very  great  losses  and 
frequent  deaths  on  dither  side.  These  shall  set  no  bounds 
to  their  malice  ;  by  their  fierce  limbs  a  great  number  of 
the  trees  in  the  immense  forests  of  the  world  shall  be 
laid  level  with  the  ground ;  and  when  they  have  crammed 
themselves  with  food  it  shall  gratify  their  desire  to  deal 
out  death,  affliction,  labours,  terrors,  and  banishment  to 
every  living  thing*  And  by  reason  of  their  boundless 
pride  they  shall  wish  to  rise  towards  heaven,  but  the 
excessive  weight  of  their  limbs  shall  hold  them  down. 
There  shall  be  nothing  remaining  on  the  earth  or  under 
the  earth  or  in  the  waters  that  shall  not  be  pursued  and 
molested  or  destroyed,  and  that  which  is  in  one  country 
taken  away  to  another ;  and  their  own  bodies  shall  be 
made  the  tomb  and  the  means  of  transit  of  all  the  living 
bodies  which  they  have  slain.  O  Earth  !  what  delays  thee 
to  open  and  hurl  them  headlong  into  the  deep  fissures  of 
thy  huge  abysses  and  caverns,  and  no  longer  to  display 
in  the  sight  of  heaven  so  savage  and  ruthless  a  monster  ? 

(C.  A.  370  v.  a.} 


FINIS